


Family Feuds

by FroggyPhevoli



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon John, Demon John Winchester, Demon!John Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Rare Pair, demon!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 23,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroggyPhevoli/pseuds/FroggyPhevoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this for thefaultinourglowclouds on Tumblr, who wanted a fanfic based on my idea of a demon John Winchester. The story takes place right where the season eight finale left off, so Team Free Will is dealing with Metatron and fallen angels in addition to the demon dad trouble.</p><p>Contains blatant Destiel, blatant Gabriel/Garth (Gabrigar? Fitzbriel?), heavily implied Samifer, and briefly implied Crobby.</p><p>Also contains a couple of major character deaths, but since this is Supernatural, one of them is only temporary. The other you'll be happy about.</p><p>Oh, and there's an orgy. A totally plot-relevant orgy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abaddon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefaultinourglowclouds.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thefaultinourglowclouds.tumblr.com).



> I started writing this shortly after season eight was finished, and before we knew anything about season nine. This is why all of the fallen angels have lost their graces in addition to their wings, even though that's not the way it works in canon.
> 
> I originally posted this on Tumblr (at [froggyphevolifanfiction](http://froggyphevolifanfiction.tumblr.com/familyfeuds)) because I didn't think anyone but the person I wrote it for would care about it. But then I realized that I'm probably literally the only one who has ever written a fic with Gabriel/Garth as a pairing, so I felt obligated to put it somewhere easier to find. (Please give this ship a chance?)

_Click, click, click_.

Millions upon millions of souls turned their heads as they heard the high-heeled footsteps coming down the hallway. Who the hell did this stranger think she was? Why did she have the right to bypass the eternal line?

Things had changed drastically under Crowley's regime. There was no denying that the new system was more efficient-- Abaddon had to give him that. And it wasn't like the souls were happy. That was the main thing. If making them wait in line forever was just as torturous as, well, torture, then why not run Hell that way?

But Abaddon was old-fashioned, and Crowley was no longer the King of Hell, so Abaddon was pleased when she finally found the side door that led to The Rack. She smirked with satisfaction as she looked up at all of the souls that were strung up, receiving their punishments with screaming and pleading. Some were even praying. Ha! As if that could help them now.

These souls were VIPs now, Abaddon realized. In the old days, everybody went up on The Rack, and everybody got tortured. That was an awful lot of work, though. Now that the majority of Hell's population was being sent to The Line, whoever was here must be either truly evil, or immensely valuable... which was precisely what the newly instated Queen of Hell was looking for.

"You there!" Abaddon called out to a random torturer. The soul she had been slowly castrating sobbed in relief as she paused to turn and face Abaddon.

"Abaddon?" the torturer said, blinking her solid black eyes. "Is it really you?"

"It's me, Victoria... and that's _Queen_ Abaddon to you."

"Queen?" Victoria frowned. "What happened to Crowley?"

"Let's just say he's not feeling like himself today. It's not important. Bottom line: I'm taking over, and I need a job done."

Victoria bowed low. "What are your orders, your highness?"

"I'm looking for a man. He should be here at The Rack, though I'm not sure which side... Tell me, Victoria, do you know of John Winchester?"

"John Winchester?" Victoria gasped. "Well of course I do! Who doesn't?"

"Good," Abaddon said. "Now tell me, has he been turned yet? Has he been taken off The Rack to join in on the fun, or is there still some light left in his soul?"

At this, Victoria actually had the nerve to laugh out loud. "John Winchester? Oh, my queen, you've been gone a long time... John Winchester has most definitely been turned. The man won 'Torturer of the Month' for a year straight!"

"Excellent!" Abaddon cried, choosing to overlook her inferior's outburst. "Take me to him. Immediately."

"Yes, ma'am!" Victoria responded eagerly.

The two demons walked along The Rack in silence for just a little over ten minutes before Victoria gently nudged Abaddon in the arm, pointed, and whispered "There's your man."

"Thank you, Victoria," Abaddon said. "I'll take it from here." Victoria nodded, then left to resume the torture she had been performing.

A manic delight appeared over Abaddon's face. Victoria had not lied; what had once been the soul of John Winchester was now pure demon, nothing but black smoke, gleefully tugging at a hook that was wedged into the left eye socket of the woman on The Rack before him.

"John Winchester," Abaddon said, barely containing her excitement as she approached him. John turned around, glaring at her through black eyes.

"What do you want, bitch?" he spat. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

Somehow, Abaddon managed to remain calm. "You will show me some respect," she said slowly. "I am Abaddon. I'm the new Queen of Hell, and you are going to listen to me, because I'm about to send you to Earth for a very important job."

"My boys finally got the best of ol' Lucky the Leprechaun, eh?" John growled. "Very well. I'm listening."

"Your boys are what I'd like to talk to you about, actually," Abaddon said. "I will be direct: I'd like you to kill them."

"May I torture them first?" John asked without hesitation.

"Why, I insist upon it."

"May I tell them who I am? And what I've done to their mother down here? I find emotional torture just as satisfying as physical torture."

"But of course."

"Then I accept."

"Thank you, John... Let me see you out. Your chariot awaits, sir-- I've already arranged for a necromancer to raise your corpse, so there will be no need for you to search for a meatsuit... And in case you need some incentive, I assure you that you will be compensated greatly upon completing this task."

"The looks on Sam and Dean's faces when I disembowel them is all the incentive I require, your highness."

Abaddon had never felt more pleased with herself than she did in the moment that she helped John Winchester cross the interdimensional gates. She had only been Queen of Hell for a few hours, and already her rule was far superior to that of the sobbing mess she'd left back at that little church with Sam Winchester.

She was perfectly confident that neither of the Winchester boys had ever experienced trauma like they were about to get before.


	2. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel, now human, looks for the Winchesters, but finds someone else instead.

Gone. Of course they were gone.

His first instinct was that they were in some sort of trouble, but after taking a moment to assess the situation logically, he decided that that was likely not the case. Well, not entirely, anyway. The Impala was gone, which meant that at least one of them-- probably Dean-- was in a fit state to drive. He couldn't be as confident in Sam's fate; there was no telling what those trials had done to him.

Castiel sank to his knees and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. He had never felt pain like this before. There was the obvious physical pain, the result of quite literally falling from Heaven, but there was emotional pain as well. He felt guilty because it was his fault that all of his brothers and sisters were flaming, falling stars in the night sky. He felt worried because he did not know whether or not Sam and Dean were okay. He felt anxious because he wanted nothing more in the world to be with Dean, to talk to him, to tell him how sorry he was, to hear Dean assure him that everything was going to be okay. He felt... He felt... God, he just _felt_. He felt so, so much. Was this how it was? Being human? Was it like this all the time?

Human. Castiel was human now. He was having a difficult time letting that sink in. Metatron took his grace. He was human now. Castiel was a human being.

The yell that burst forth from him would have crumbled mountains, had it not been for the reason he was yelling in the first place. Not that the world cared, anyway; it was too distracted by the tragic spectacle raining down upon it. Castiel simply could not cope with this new state of being, let alone all of the feelings that came with it. He yelled and he yelled and he yelled, drowning out everything, including his own thoughts, focusing all of his energy into this so intently that it took him several minutes to realize that someone else was yelling back.

Castiel entered the church and was met with a very odd sight. Something was definitely wrong. The Winchesters had left something quite important behind.

"Sam?" Crowley called out timidly. _Wait_ , Castiel thought. _Crowley? Timid?_ He was bound to a chair facing away from the door, so he could not see Castiel.

"No," Castiel said flatly, walking around so that he and Crowley could get a look at each other. Truth be told, he didn't appear all that much like Crowley anymore. There was something different about his eyes, something different about the way he carried himself. Castiel's head tilted to one side as he stared down at him in confusion.

"Cas," Crowley croaked. What had happened to his voice? His accent had changed. "Castiel... Let me go. Please... They left me here. They left me. Please, Cas."

Castiel frowned. "Sam completed the trials," he said. It wasn't a question.

"No," Crowley corrected, eyes flashing red for a split second. "Not quite... _Close_ , though... I feel... Cas, I feel..."

"No need to explain," Castiel cut in. "I think I understand perfectly."

"So you'll let me go?"

"I think we both know that I can't afford to do that."

Crowley exhaled, dragging the breath out into a long, defeated sigh. "Yes, of course... I understand..." He paused for a few seconds, and then continued. "So... where are we going, then?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you're not just going to leave me here, are you?"

"No... No, I suppose I can't."

There was another lull in the conversation as the former King of Hell waited for the angel to say something; do something.

"May I borrow your phone?" Castiel asked at last.

"Inside pocket. On the left."

"Thank you."

Castiel reached cautiously into Crowley's jacket, expecting some sort of trap, but sure enough his fingers closed around the mobile device and pulled it out without any difficulty. He quickly began to type in the first of Dean's cell phone numbers, and discovered that Crowley already had this one on speed dial. Castiel had memorized all of Dean's numbers-- and Sam's too-- just in case an emergency situation ever arose, and this was, without a doubt, an emergency situation.

The phone rang for what felt like an agonizingly long time before going to voicemail. Now even more worried, Castiel hung up and dialed Dean's second number. When that also went to voicemail, he tried the last number, but Dean did not answer that call either.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Something was definitely wrong if Dean wasn't answering any of his phones. In a fit of desperation, he tried all of Sam's numbers as well, though he was unsurprised when he received no answers from them either.

"All right," Castiel said, taking a deep breath. "On to Plan B, then."

"What's Plan B?" Crowley asked. Castiel leaned over and began to undo Crowley's bindings.

"Well... First, we're going to steal a car."


	3. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's glad to be back in his old body, but... Jesus shit, this guy with the glitter-covered business card sure is a pain in the ass.

"My, my, my! Look at you! I've raised a handsome fella!"

John scowled at the elderly, bearded man, flexing his newly reformed fingers. Perhaps if he still had any human emotions he would have been grateful to this old man; necromancy was an extraordinarily difficult breed of magic, which was why it was so rare for demons to be reunited with their original bodies. Abaddon must have had to pull some pretty major strings in order to seal this arrangement.

But John did not have any human emotions left, so instead of feeling grateful, he was only feeling annoyed. This old man was staring at him and speaking of him as though he were a sculpture of his that he was particularly proud of. He supposed, in a way, that it was flattering to be compared to a work of art like this, but he did not appreciate being treated like an inanimate object.

"Ugh, just _shut up_!" John growled. God, he wanted to rip that knee-length beard right off the stupid man's face. "Is this all? Do I need anything else from you?"

"Nah, I reckon you're good to go. Here though, take my card-- just in case you run into any trouble or require s'more maintenance, you can gimmee a call any time."

John took the business card, which he was irritated to discover was completely coated with glitter. _That will_ never _wash off of me_ , he thought angrily. He stuffed the card into his pocket without reading it, certain that he would rather face death again than endure any more help from this batty necromancer.

"I'll be on my way, then," John said. "Thank you for restoring me to my proper form."

"Oh, my pleasure!" the necromancer replied enthusiastically. "Anything for Abaddon. I owe her from waaaaay back."

_Yeah, I don't care_ , John thought, stepping out the front door and away from the old man's run-down shack of a home.

Now, John did not have the faintest idea where his sons might be. Both he and Abaddon were pretty out of touch with the modern world, and so far Sam and Dean had done a pretty remarkable job of keeping "The Bat Cave," as they called it, a secret. So he decided to begin by confronting someone who would very likely know of their whereabouts.

_Next stop: Singer Salvage Yard._


	4. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is still unconscious. There's a knock at the door. Castiel's brought Dean a present.

Dean's entire body tensed at the sound of the doorbell. He was sitting in Sam's bedroom with the prophet Kevin Tran while Sam lay unconscious on his bed. His little brother was in severely bad shape, and neither Dean nor Kevin knew how to fix him.

"You stay here with Sam," Dean ordered. "I'll go check it out." Kevin nodded, looking just as terrified as Dean felt.

Who the hell could possibly be ringing the doorbell? The only people who knew about this place were--

" _Dean_! Dean, it's me! Let me in!"

That voice. Dean would know that voice anywhere. Breathing an enormous sigh of relief, he threw open the front door and pulled Castiel into his arms. The angel hugged him back with equal force, burying his face into Dean's shoulder.

"Cas! Oh man... Cas... Thank God you're okay... I wasn't sure... All the angels..."

"I know... I saw... I was, um... I was there."

It took Dean a couple seconds to grasp what Castiel was actually trying to tell him. He broke the embrace to look his long-time friend in the eyes.

"Wait... Cas, did you...? I mean... Are you still...?"

Nothing in the world could have prepared Dean for what happened next. Not only was it something he had never seen before, but it was something that he didn't even know was possible. Castiel burst into tears.

" _Shit_ ," Dean whispered, resuming their hug. "Oh, Cas... Cas, I'm so sorry... We'll fix it, buddy. We'll find a way to fix it. Everything's gonna be okay, man..."

Castiel said nothing in response, dampening the blue of Dean's button-down shirt with his sobs. He was certain that Dean was trying to reassure himself just as much as he was trying to reassure Castiel.

There came a cough from behind Castiel, and it was then for the first time that Dean noticed Crowley leaning in the doorway. Dean jumped in alarm, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Under almost any other circumstances, he would have yelled at Castiel. He would have demanded to know how he could dare bring one of their greatest enemies to their secret base. But Dean couldn't do that to him. Not now. The poor sonofabitch had just lost his wings. Dean couldn't possibly imagine what that was like, but he guessed it was probably similar to how he would feel if he suddenly lost his dick.

"Um... Cas? What's he doing here?"

"You have a partially cured King of Hell in your possession," Castiel explained, voice thick from crying. "I assumed that was something you would not want slipped through your fingers so easily."

"Oh... Right, yeah..." Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "Wait, how did you guys even get here?"

"I believe it was a 2007 Musta--"

"EXCUSE ME!" Crowley interrupted loudly. "Are you two dunderheads gonna just stand there and blab all day, or are you gonna let me in the bloody building?!"

Dean and Castiel stared at him, wearing matching expressions of horror. Slowly, Crowley's face changed to a similar look.

"Oh, God," he said softly. "Um... I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me just now."

"Well, _fuck_!" Dean shouted. "He's changing back! We didn't finish the trial, so now he's changing back. FUCK!"

"I feared this might happen," Castiel sighed. "You'll notice I kept the handcuffs on him."

"Handcuffs ain't gonna stop the King of Hell if he decides to go back to the dark side, Cas!"

"Well, what do you suggest I do, then?"

Dean inhaled deeply. He needed to stop taking his stress out on Castiel. He was only trying to help.

"I'm sorry... You done good, Cas. You really have... Do me a favor and take Crowley to the dungeon, okay?"

"To the _what_?!" Crowley shrieked, voice breaking on the final word.


	5. Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash has been working on a project that could potentially save Heaven.

Nobody was laughing anymore.

It had been months, maybe even years since he first began his search. It was difficult to say. Time worked differently in Heaven. Either way, he had been at it for quite some time, and his friends had been laughing all the way.

Not anymore. Not ever again.

Jo leaned over him from behind, staring at the indecipherable code on his computer screen. "Any luck, Ash?" she asked.

"Yes and no," Ash sighed. "No progress since last time you asked, but I'm _close_. I know I am."

"You've been 'close' for like, six weeks now."

"I know, but I mean it. I'm... I'm _right there_. I just... I don't know. I'm missing something. Just one little piece."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Maybe later. I just sent Bobby and your mom to some coordinates; depending on what they bring back, I might need help analyzing it."

"Okay... I'm gonna go grab a beer. You want one?"

"Ooh, yes please!"

His friends, his computer, The Roadhouse, and beer. That was Ash's Heaven. In that order.

Unfortunately, Ash's Heaven wasn't enough anymore. In fact, nobody's Heaven was enough anymore. Not since Metatron made all of the angels fall. Truthfully, it didn't affect the human residents of Heaven all that much; it wasn't like the angels ever interacted with them. But Ash, Jo, Ellen, Bobby, and Rufus were hunters, and they knew that fallen angels were sure to mean trouble on Earth, regardless of what effect they had in Heaven.

It was for this reason that Ash was looking for another Heaven. Initially, he had begun the search merely out of sheer curiosity, but as of Metatron's takeover, he tripled his efforts, knowing that Earth needed the help of this other Heaven's inhabitants.

Jo returned with two bottles of El Sol, but before she could step back into Ash's room, Rufus appeared, shoving her aside and sprinting over to Ash's desk. "What the hell, Rufus?!" Jo cried, placing a palm over both bottles' mouths to prevent them from fizzing over.

"Bobby and Ellen are back!" Rufus panted, ignoring Jo. "I think you were right, man. I think they found the entrance."

Ash's eyes went wide. "Fuck yeah!" he shouted in triumph, raising both fists above his head. "All right, team. It's party time."

Within a couple minutes, the five hunters gathered at a round table in The Roadhouse's main room. Ellen pulled a digital camera out of her jacket pocket, removing the memory card and handing it to Ash so that he may plug it into his laptop.

"We took as many pictures of the site as we could, just like you said," Bobby told Ash, watching the latter tapping furiously away at his keyboard. "We reckon there's something off about that huge apple tree-- you'll see what I mean."

Ash was silent as he clicked through each photo, taking care to zoom in as far as possible on every inch of every picture, occasionally taking notes and sketching graphs. The other four held their breath and waited, until finally Ellen couldn't take the suspense anymore.

" _Well_?" she said. "Do we have the right place or not?" Ash looked up at her and smiled.

"Ladies and gentlemen... Who would like to accompany me to the place where The Big Man keeps dead angels?"


	6. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns that Bobby is dead, so he finds someone who can direct him to the new Bobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea whether to say that it had been one or two years since Bobby's death due to [canon inconsistencies](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=Canon_Discrepancies), so please just roll with me on this one. I don't want to have to justify this or think about it too hard, and I think it'll be much easier on me to stick with the IRL timeline.

John stared at the rubble, eyes black with fury. He was standing in front of the home of Bobby Singer... Or at least, it used to be the home of Bobby Singer. The house had clearly burned down, demolishing any evidence that may have been inside.

_No matter_ , he thought. _Not like Bobby was my only contact... There are hundreds of hunters out there..._ Still, Bobby would have been his best bet, so he couldn't deny that he was disappointed.

John quickly discovered that a lot had changed in his absence. Not only was Bobby Singer's house destroyed, but so was Harvelle's Roadhouse, along with over half of the other hunters' homes that he tried. Among the buildings still standing, he encountered spouses and children who informed him that the hunter he was looking for had passed away. Of course, many of these spouses-- and sometimes even the children-- recognized him because of his years of working with their husband, wife, or parent. He slaughtered these people quickly; he would save the torturing for Sam and Dean.

At long last, John found what he wanted. The hunter in question may not have been his first choice, but they had worked a few cases together and, more importantly, John didn't have anyone else.

"J-- John?" the man sputtered when he answered the door. "No... It can't be... John Winchester?"

"Hello, Roy," John said, forcing the most charming smile he could muster. Roy pulled a pistol out from the back of his jeans and pointed it at John's chest.

"You're not John Winchester," Roy growled. "John Winchester died years ago... What are you?"

"Roy... I know it's crazy, but I swear, it's me." John raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "From what I hear, my boys have come back from the dead quite a few times... I guess it just runs in the family."

Roy cocked his gun. "Prove it, then," he said. "Tell me something only John Winchester would know."

"Monogrammed thong," John smirked. It was an inside joke from their first hunt together. An eighteen year old Dean had somehow managed to get his hands on a prostitute's undergarments and, as a prank, swapped it for all of the underwear John had packed to take with him while working a case with Roy out of town. He chose to go commando rather than endure the string riding his ass, but he later whipped it out anyway, using it as a slingshot in order to get him and Roy out of a tight spot. Fearing that the hunting community would no longer take him seriously, he made Roy swear not to ever reveal that the Baltimore Banshee had been defeated by a red and pink lace thong.

When John came home from that particular hunt, he ensured that Dean never played another prank on him again.

"John?" Roy gasped. "But... But how?!"

"Can we maybe talk about this inside?" John asked.

"Oh! Right, yes, of course," Roy said, stepping aside to allow his former colleague to cross the threshold.

"Can I get you a drink or anything?" Roy offered as John settled himself on the couch.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Got anything strong?"

"You bet."

"Thanks, man."

John cut through the small talk as quickly as he possibly could without arousing suspicion again. It was very lucky for him that Roy was so dimwitted.

"So," John said, taking a swig of whiskey. "I need to ask you... Where, um... Where's Bobby Singer living nowadays?"

Roy's face went solemn. "Oh, John... I'm really sorry, but... Bobby Singer died. He's been dead for about a year now."

John did his best to look devastated rather than frustrated. "I was afraid that might be the case," he sighed. "I was hoping he could help me find my boys, but when I went by his house it was gone..."

"Wait, you mean Sam and Dean don't know you're back yet?"

"No, I'm afraid not... I've been trying to track them down, but you know my boys. They won't be found if they don't want to be found."

"Yeah, I understand... Is there anything I can do to help? I don't know where they are, I'm afraid, but..."

"Could you maybe direct me to the new Bobby?" John asked. "Someone did take over for him, right?"

"Well yeah, of course," Roy said. "Us hunters always need a middleman... His name's Garth Fitzgerald. He don't look like much, and he's a bit new to the hunting scene, but he's superb. I can give you his address?"

"That'd be great." John flashed his charming smile once more as Roy got up to go write down the information for him. God, it was exhausting to be so friendly.

"Here you go," Roy said, handing John a yellow Post-It note. "I wrote my number on there too, so if you have any trouble, just give me a holler."

" _Thank you_ , Roy... Truly, sincerely, thank you... You've been so helpful, it'd almost be a shame for me to kill you."

For a split-second, Roy was chuckling as if John had just told a rather humorous joke, but it didn't take long for his amusement to be replaced by confusion and fear.

"Wait... What?"

John allowed his eyes to go all black so he could savor the look on Roy's face before he snapped his neck.


	7. Garth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garth wakes up and... Oh God. Oh shit... What the _actual fuck_ happened last night?!

It was just after eleven a.m. when the splitting pain in his skull ordered him to rise and shine. He opened his eyes, and then immediately shut them again.

No. No. He had not just seen what he thought he saw. He was still asleep. Yes, that was it. He must have been dreaming. There was no way he could have actually landed himself in this situation. As a hunter, Garth Fitzgerald IV had seen a lot of crazy stuff in his day, but this? This was a whole different kind of crazy for him. This was the kind of thing that only happened in movies.

Garth opened his eyes once more, and this time he was forced to conclude that yes, he was, in fact, in a motel room, lying in what seemed to be two queen-sized beds pushed together, surrounded by nine(!) other people, all of which were either naked or mostly naked. Oh yeah, and he himself was naked too.

What the _hell_ happened last night?!

Garth decided to take a look at the people he was entangled with in the hopes of spotting any familiar faces. He couldn't remember anything after his third beer, but logic suggested that he had probably met these people at the pub he went to last night.

Garth was lying on his back, slightly diagonally at the top of one bed, with his head near the middle crack. He craned his neck over his shoulder and to the left in order to see the one man and four women who occupied the other bed. The man-- or was he a boy?-- looked as though he could have been fresh out of high school, though Garth supposed he must be at least twenty-one if he'd been in the pub. He hoped to God that it wasn't a kid with a fake ID; all of the women on top of him looked at least a decade older than him as it was. Unfortunately, between the five of them, only the young man looked familiar. The others must have arrived after Garth blacked out. He struggled to recall the young man's name, but the memory was too fuzzy. It was something exotic, he was fairly certain. Something difficult to pronounce. He didn't get any farther than that.

When his neck got tired and his recollection failed him, Garth turned his attention back to his own bed. Three people lay at the foot of it: a man and a woman using a second man's chest as a pillow, his arms wrapped around each of their waists. Once again, Garth recognized only one person from the group; this time, the pillow man. What was his name again? Something else exotic... and didn't he have an accent or something? If only his head would stop pounding, then maybe he could _think_... This wasn't likely, however, as his stomach was now beginning to turn, adding yet another item on his list of current predicaments. Poor Garth hadn't had a hangover this bad since he was seventeen.

Finally, he turned his attention the man that was lying half on top of him, arm draped across Garth's torso. Due to his position, he was the first person that Garth noticed, but he was the last one that Garth chose to focus on because he was terrified of what he would find, or what he would remember. This man was rather short, with shaggy brown hair and a small mouth. Like the young man and the pillow man, Garth recalled meeting this man at the pub, but for the life of him he could not conjure up his name, even though his brain was telling him that it had been relatively normal compared to the names of the other two. His eyes scanned the man's body, which was completely exposed save for a single sock covering his penis. Upon closer inspection, Garth realized that it was no ordinary sock.

"Oh no," Garth moaned. "Oh no, oh no... Mr. Fizzles, I am _so_ sorry..."

At the sound of Garth's voice, the short man awoke. His eyes were a brilliant amber sort of color, technically brown, but so light that they almost looked gold. For a brief moment, staring into those eyes, Garth's headache and nausea were forgotten.

"Morning," the man said with a smile.

"M-- morning," Garth stammered. "Uh... What... I mean... What exactly...?"

The amber-eyed man's smile faded. "Oh no... You don't remember anything, do you? ...Damn, I thought you were joking. I guess you have zero tolerance after all..."

Unsure how to respond, Garth said nothing. Amber Eyes attempted to comfort him. "Don't worry," he said in a reassuring tone, stroking a thumb against Garth's upper arm. "I didn't stick anything up your hole. I could tell you aren't the sort of guy who does that often... Luckily, my hands and mouth are plenty talented."

"Bragging already, brother dearest?" came a lazy voice. The pillow man had awoken now. His eyes were gorgeous as well, though his were blue. Garth was pleased to discover that his memory regarding an accent had been correct; it was definitely European, though Garth had a difficult time assigning it to a specific country.

"Hey, shut up," Amber Eyes said. "I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't get scared off, okay?"

European Pillow Man untangled himself from his two sleeping companions so that he may stand up and stretch. They stirred in their sleep and, in European Pillow Man's absence, embraced each other instead. Meanwhile, on the other bed, three out of the five had woken up, including Young Man, who promptly sprinted to the bathroom and threw up.

 _Same here, kid_ , Garth thought.

"Well, I'd say Operation Get Little Brother Laid was a success, wouldn't you?" European Pillow Man asked Amber Eyes as he rummaged through the massive, scattered pile of clothes on the floor. "Not to mention some fun for you and I too!"

"Hells yeah!" Amber Eyes said triumphantly, removing Mr. Fizzles and handing him to Garth. "Here's your friend. Thanks for letting me borrow him." Garth cringed as the puppet landed with a "plop" onto the palm of his hand. He was damp. "...Thanks?" Garth said uncertainly.

Slowly, little by little, all ten individuals in the room had gotten out of bed and managed to get back into their own clothes. (In the case of the four women who had been with Young Man, this wasn't much, leading Garth to suspect that Young Man's experience had not come without a price tag.) The man and woman who'd been at the foot of Garth's bed thanked European Pillow Man for "the best anniversary ever" while European Pillow Man tried to convince them not to leave, telling them that he was about to go buy everyone breakfast. All four of Young Man's women left very quickly, not bothering with goodbyes since Young Man was still puking his guts out. (He was not the least bit interested in European Pillow Man's offer of breakfast.) Garth asked Amber Eyes for a plastic sandwich bag, which he dropped Mr. Fizzles in before slipping him into his pocket.

"Let me walk you home," Amber Eyes said.

"You don't have to do that," Garth said quickly, feeling his cheeks and ears grow warm. "I want to," Amber Eyes insisted, and before Garth knew it, the two of them were walking arm in arm down the street.

"I can take it from here," Garth said once Fizzles' Folly came into view.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I think so... Thank you though, for, um..." How the hell was he supposed to finish that sentence?

Amber Eyes saved him the trouble by leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. "Anytime. My pleasure... So, um, I'll see you around?" Those beautiful eyes of his looked so hopeful.

"Yeah!" Garth blurted, nodding. "Yeah, definitely."

"Great! Well... See you, then."

"See you."

Garth tried to control the rapid beating of his heart and the inevitable expulsion of vomit as he stepped into the boat that he called home. Unfortunately, he soon saw that his excitement for the day was not yet over.

Someone had clearly broken in while Garth was out. This was no petty criminal, either-- papers were scattered and furniture was overturned, yet nothing appeared to be taken. Furthermore, every single one of his windows were shattered, thus eliminating all of the demon-proof and angel-proof symbols that had been painted on them. Clearly, whoever had been here was here on supernatural-related business, and they had been searching for something. It would take him ages to work out what that something was, if he ever managed to work it out at all.

Still, there was one thing he knew for certain: He was incredibly fortunate that he had not been home when the criminal arrived. There was no telling what could have happened to him if he had come home from the pub last night, though it was highly likely that his blood and organs would have ended up splattered all over his chaotically handled possessions. Perhaps what had happened to him in that motel room was not the most ideal scenario, but looking at the state of his boat, Garth couldn't help but believe that it was a blessing in disguise.

"Oh, amber-eyed man, you are an angel."


	8. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has some alone time, and uses the opportunity to let himself be vulnerable... until he's interrupted by someone he never expected.

Dean was crying. Sam was still asleep and Castiel and Kevin were out on a supply run. Dean sat alone in The Bat Cave's dining room, taking the lack of witnesses as an opportunity to let his feelings out.

He was worried about Sam, of course. The well-being of his little brother was Dean's top priority at the moment, but it was far from his only concern. He worried for the newly human Castiel as well, and the state of the world in general. Mainstream news networks had covered the falling "stars" to death, but there was little word on the aftermath. Dean found it difficult to believe that all of those angels were handling their new circumstances well.

He hastily wiped his tears away as he heard approaching footsteps. Castiel and Kevin must be back... or at least, that was what Dean thought for a moment, until he realized that he was only hearing one set of footsteps, not two.

Immediately, his mind jumped to worst-case scenarios. Castiel had gotten hurt, or died. Kevin had gotten hurt, or died. Something awful must have intercepted them during their errands, and now one of them was unable to return to the bunker. But which one? Dean hated himself for thinking it, but he suspected that he could cope with the young prophet's loss easier than that of his former angel.

But it was neither Castiel nor Kevin who stepped into the dining room. Instead, it was someone who had already been killed long ago. Instead, it was someone that Dean was quite certain that he would never see again.

"...Dad?" Dean whispered incredulously.

"Dean," John said. "Dean, Dean, Dean... My son... How are you?" At the last word, he blinked slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, they were solid black. Dean sputtered in response, too shocked and horrified to form actual words.

"Yes, Dean, it's really me," John explained, knowing that Dean didn't understand. "All those years in Hell... All those years I threw away just for your sorry, sniveling, ungrateful ass... They burned up my soul, Dean. I'm a demon now. But isn't it great? I got my old body back. Abaddon arranged it special... No random meatsuits for me. Oh no... The man who kills Sam and Dean Winchester gets special treatment."

"YOU ARE _NOT_ MY FATHER!" Dean screamed, drawing the knife that had once been Ruby's.

"Oh yeah? Then how do I know that you were born on January 24, 1979 in Lawrence, Kansas, and we moved away just before your fifth birthday? Or that you were named after your mother's mother, Deanna Campbell? Or that your first word was 'dada' and your first sentence was 'I want pie'? Or that you're allergic to cats, and you found this out by getting too close to Mrs. McGillicuddy's tabby when you were two? Or that one time when you were playing T-ball, and you swung the bat so hard that you spun all the way around and fell in the dirt and started crying for me? Or that I taught you how to shoot a gun when you were six years old? Or that you _always_ throw scissors in rock, paper, scissors? Or that you were the one who carried baby Sam out of the house the night your mother died? ...Speaking of which, where is little Sammy?"

Dean racked his brains, trying to remember how many of those facts had appeared in Chuck Shurley's novels, but he decided that it didn't matter. His gut was telling him that this was no trick, that this truly was his father, in demon form. After all, when had he ever seen a demon take a corpse as a meatsuit? Especially one whose bones had been burned? And God damn, it wasn't just the stuff he was saying-- even this man's mannerisms matched those of his dad, albeit with a more sinister twist.

" _Exorcizamus te_ ," Dean said. " _Omnis immundus spiritus_ \--"

John laughed maniacally as Dean began the exorcism. Pulling back his sleeve, he showed Dean the underside of his forearm, which was branded with a familiar-looking circular mark. Dean knew this mark; it was the same one he and Bobby had found on Sam years ago, when he was being possessed by Meg. With this brand, an exorcism would be useless.

Dean had no choice. He had to kill his father.

He charged at John, knife in hand, but he had barely made it two steps before John raised his hand and Dean was hit by an invisible force, flinging him across the room and pinning him to the wall, feet not touching the ground. Ruby's knife clattered to the floor, spinning uselessly.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." John tutted. "What a shame... I didn't think it'd be this easy. Really, Dean, I expected a better fight from you... But I guess I shouldn't be surprised... You always did jump at every opportunity to disappoint me..."

At that moment, there came a roar, and suddenly a tall, shaggy-haired figure was storming into the room, retrieving the knife from the ground and sprinting straight towards John. "SAMMY, NO!" Dean screamed. Why, why, _why_ did his little brother have to wake up _now_?!

John effortlessly attached Sam to the ceiling the same way he attached Dean to the wall, laughing. "Oh, this is just _perfect_ ," he purred. "You're both mine now... Poor Sammy; he looks like he's in bad shape... Lucky for you I'm such a compassionate father... I think I'll put him out of his misery first. How's that sound, Dean? Are you ready to watch me kill your baby brother?"

"No..." Dean choked. "Dad... Please..."

"I love it when you beg... Too bad that won't save Sammy, though... Oh, and look! He's going to die on the ceiling, just like mommy dearest! Should I slash his belly and light him on fire too?"

Before either Dean or Sam could answer, John had already pulled out a knife of his own. He snapped his fingers and sent the blade shooting upwards, lodging itself directly into Sam's stomach. Sam screamed in pain while Dean helplessly shouted "NO! SAMMY!"

"Yes... Yes, this is quite fun... This is even better than torturing your mother... You do know that your mother is in Hell, right? She made a deal with Azazel... The moment I turned, I begged for special permission to be her only torturer, and Crowley was happy to oblige me... Oh, Sam, Dean, if only you could hear her screams..." John snapped his fingers one more time, and Sam's body was instantly engulfed in flames.

"NO!" Dean howled, tears now spilling from his fear-filled eyes. "DAD, PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING! JUST LET SAM GO! TAKE ME!"

"Oh, I intend to," John said. "One at a time though, don't you think? I'm in no rush."

After a little while, Sam's cries of agony stopped, which only made Dean's cries of despair grow louder and more desperate. John laughed heartily, thoroughly enjoying the show, too distracted to notice that they were no longer alone.

John's laughter abruptly turned into shrieking as the streams of water penetrated his skin. There stood Castiel and Kevin, back from their supply run, a Super Soaker filled with holy water in each of their hands. "CAS!" Dean called out. " _SAM_!"

Giving Dean a quick nod of understanding, Castiel aimed his gun at the ceiling rather than the floor, dousing the fire while Kevin continued to shoot John. Smoke poured from Sam's body while steam poured from John's, making Dean cough.

Soon, Dean felt himself sliding down from the wall, and Sam's no longer burning figure had fallen into Castiel's arms. Dean ran to his brother, refusing to believe that he was too late. Right now, nothing in the world mattered except that Sam was okay-- he almost didn't even catch John ominously warning "I'll be back!" before vanishing.

Castiel handed Sam's charred body over to Dean, who held him close, sobbing. "Come on, Sammy," he said. "Sammy... no... please..." Now Kevin and Castiel were crying too.

"Dean, I'm so sorry," Castiel whispered. "If only I had returned sooner..."

"Heal him, Cas," Dean ordered, completely forgetting that he couldn't. "Bring him back. Now. Please." Castiel took a deep, shuddering breath and cried even harder, gently touching his forehead against Dean's. The gesture made Dean fall apart, letting go of what little composure he'd had left.

Sam was gone.


	9. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam encounters some old friends in Heaven, and they're on a mission.

Sam woke up in the bed of a moving truck. How the hell had he gotten here? One moment he was burning, screaming in agony, and the next... Shit, he must have passed out, either because of John or because of the trials taking away all of his strength.

Only, Sam couldn't feel the effects of the trials or the fire anymore. In fact, he felt great; he was completely rejuvenated and burn-free. He briefly wondered if Castiel had done something to him, before remembering that his friend had very likely fallen with the rest of the angels, and that he had already established before that he couldn't help Sam with the side effects of the trials anyway.

Then there was Dean. What had happened to Dean? He wasn't in the truck bed with him. Sam supposed he could have been on the inside, but the windows were tinted, so it was impossible for him to tell. He screamed out his brother's name again and again, but to no avail.

What was he going to do? What if Demon Dad had gotten him? Dean could be dead, or at the very least tortured right now. How and why the fuck was Sam being driven down this unfamiliar country road when he had a demon to stop and a brother to rescue?! If only Dean had let him finish the trial, then maybe Demon Dad would have never gotten to them in the first place!

After a few minutes, the truck went off-road and into an orchard. Sam braced himself as the driver, whoever it was, decided to park. The truck was too big to squeeze between the thick conglomeration of trees. Sam reached into his pockets-- all of them-- desperately groping for a weapon, but found nothing. He was going to have to make a run for it.

"Woah there, Sam!" came a familiar voice as Sam had one leg hanging over the side, preparing to jump. "It's okay. It's just us."

Sam gasped as he watched his non-demonic father figure emerge from the passenger side door. "B-- Bobby?"

Bobby gave him a sad smile as Ash appeared out of the driver's side and Ellen, Jo, and Rufus came from the back seat. Suddenly, Sam felt sick to his stomach as understanding crashed over him: He was dead.

 _Well... At least I'm in Heaven, I guess_ , he thought, desperately trying to cling to optimism. _And it's not like I've never died and come back to life before, right?_

"Sorry, Sam," Bobby said, allowing Sam to grip his shoulder and steady himself as he climbed out of the truck.

"What... What's going on?" Sam asked. "I mean, what are we doing?"

"We're about to break into Meta-Heaven," Ash declared proudly.

"Er... 'Meta-Heaven'?" Sam said, cocking a single eyebrow. Jo quickly shot him a warning look as if to say "Don't make fun of the name. Just don't."

"Yes," Ash said. "It's a Heaven within Heaven-- and I don't mean like someone's personal Heaven. I mean like, it's on a whole 'nother plane of existence, yet at the same time it's still part of Heaven... Pretty rad, really."

"So... What _is_... Meta-Heaven, exactly?"

"It's where angels go when they die."

Now both of Sam's eyebrows shot up. He wasn't sure if this was a very good thing or a very bad thing.

"The dead angels are our only hope of defeating Metatron," Rufus clarified. "Literally every living angel except for him is powerless now. If we can bust the dead ones out of Meta-Heaven, we might have an army good enough to stop him."

"But what about the angels who've already fallen? Will they come back if we beat Metatron?"

"We don't know," Bobby admitted. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we get there."

The six hunters made their way through the orchard, Ash leading the way with the aid of a GPS. As they walked, Sam filled his old friends in on the situation on Earth-- not only the fallen angels, but his demon father as well.

"I'm sure Dean is fine," Bobby said comfortingly. "He would have showed up up here with you if he was dead."

It took nearly an hour before they reached a tree that looked different from all of the other trees in the orchard. For starters, it was standing right smack in the middle of a small pond, but that was not the most unusual thing about it. It had a strange sort of aura about it; if Sam had to describe it to someone, he might have said that it was shimmering, but that was not quite it. The effect seemed to be on his vision more so than the tree itself, as if the tree was giving off some sort of invisible substance that was asking Sam not to look at it. "Is this it?" he asked.

"Yup," Ash said. "Come on, everyone. Into the water!" They obeyed, following Ash into the pond. Jo pulled out a small knife that looked as though it was carved from bone, and began using it to scratch strange symbols into the tree's bark. She read the symbols-- which Sam guessed were Enochian-- off of a piece of paper that Ash held out to her, and as she completed each character, it glowed sky blue. After the ninth character, there was a loud cracking sound, and without warning the hunters found themselves being sucked down into the depths of the suddenly no longer shallow pond.

The pond slowly transitioned into a cloud, and soon enough they were falling upside down though sky instead of right side up through water. They landed in a soft, grassy meadow that rested on a peak, overlooking a place that heavily reminded Sam of the scene in _The Wizard of Oz_ when the movie first transitioned from black and white to color. For a moment, Sam was shocked that they survived the fall, before reminding himself that they were all already dead.

"Oh my God," Jo breathed. "This is Eden, isn't it? We're in the Garden of Eden!"

"You mean Meta-Heaven," Rufus whispered jokingly.

Everything went quiet as all eyes turned to Ash. He had his back to the rest of the group, and they all assumed that he was merely taking in the scenery until he slowly turned around, an expression of despair and fear on his face.

"Ash?" Ellen said in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Don't you hear it?" Ash choked, voice uncharacteristically serious. "Don't you see it?"

"What are you talking about?" Jo asked, concerned. "There's nothing here."

"Exactly."

Nobody understood, so Ash took a deep breath and continued.

"I've made a _very_ severe miscalculation... All this time, I just took it for granted that Metatron's spell only affected Heaven, but... look! Look around you! Hear how quiet it is! He didn't just make the angels in Heaven fall, guys... The spell went all the way to Meta-Heaven... The dead angels all fell too."

There was a collective gasp. "Wait a minute," Sam said, panic quickly forming in his chest. "You mean to tell me that all the angels who have ever been killed... Raphael, Gabriel, Zachariah, Uriel... They're all on Earth right now?"

Ash nodded.

"Well... At least they're powerless, right?"

"We were _relying_ on those powers, Sam!" Rufus snapped. "I know angels can be dangerous, but I am not comforted at all by the idea of them sitting on their asses while Metatron has his way with a place that's supposed to be eternal paradise!"

"Calm down, Rufus," Bobby said. "Remember, I'm sure the angels are trying just as hard to get their powers back as we are. It's not like they're just fooling around down there."

"You'd better be right, Bobby," Rufus growled. "Otherwise we're fucked."


	10. Samandriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samandriel is trying to be productive, but that's difficult when he has his two childish brothers to deal with.

"Gabriel! Balthazar! Quit fooling around!"

Samandriel had just returned to the motel room after a long day and was not pleased by the sight that awaited him. In an attempt to vent all of his pent-up feelings of frustration and worry, Gabriel had drawn a target on the wall with Sharpie, and was now throwing various kitchen knives at it. Balthazar sat there egging him on, sometimes tossing random objects across the knives' paths to ruin his aim.

"You do realize they're going to charge us for that, right? We're barely able to afford this room as it is! I haven't had any luck landing a job, you two haven't even been trying, and I'm not comfortable with stealing purses from little old ladies!"

"Well, well, well," Balthazar said. "Look who thinks he's a big man now that he got some! Don't you forget, little brother, you have me and Gabe to thank for that."

"That's not the point!" Samandriel flushed pink. It was true that neither Balthazar nor Gabriel had ever seen him fired up like this, but he liked to think that he'd always had it in him. "Do you guys even _care_ that we're fallen? Do you have any idea what I've been doing all day? I've been wrangling demons and reapers! Do you know how hard that is without my grace? I can't even _see_ the reapers!"

"Any luck?" Balthazar asked.

"No," Samandriel sighed. "Not even a little bit... but at least I'm putting forth some effort!"

"Oh, shut up," Gabriel muttered. "I'm brooding."

"For Father's _sake_ , Gabriel--" Samandriel forced himself to soften his tone before finishing his sentence. "Just _call_ that Garth guy if you want to see him again so badly. You did exchange numbers at the pub, didn't you?"

"That's what I've been saying!" Balthazar cut in.

"Why bother?" Gabriel pouted. "He doesn't want to see me again. I could tell. The orgy thing freaked him out. That was a terrible fucking idea, Balthazar!"

"It wasn't my idea!"

"Yes it was!"

"Okay, maybe it was... but I thought he enjoyed himself!"

" _I came inside his most cherished possession_ , Balthazar!"

"It was a bloody sock! He can wash it!"

"IT HAD A _NAME_!"

"All right, ALL RIGHT!" Samandriel bellowed. "I can't deal with this anymore... Either you two start helping me out, or I'm going off on my own... and Gabriel, if you don't call Garth and ask him out on a date, I'll do it for you!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Gabriel snarled.

"Watch me," Samandriel retorted, a threatening gleam in his eye that Gabriel never knew he was capable of.

Without breaking their stare-off, Gabriel slowly slipped his phone out of his pocket, stood up, and headed out the door for some privacy.


	11. Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After years of denial, Nick comes to terms with his situation.

This was worse.

There, finally, he'd admitted it. This was worse. For years he'd tried to convince himself otherwise, partially because he was desperate to find a silver lining to his situation, and partially because he couldn't believe that anything that ever happened to him after that could possibly be worse... but it could. It was. This was.

The nurse came in as scheduled and gave him a shot that he didn't need. The psychiatrist came in as scheduled and refused to leave until he "confessed" that the entire thing was all in his head-- that the one event that destroyed his life more than he ever thought possible had never happened. His sister was supposed to visit him today, but he was unsurprised when the secretary came in and informed him that she had cancelled. He didn't even listen to what her excuse was.

He prayed every morning and every night. Not out loud, because if anybody heard who he was praying to he would be stuck here for even longer, but he prayed nonetheless. There was a time in his life where he felt guilty for only praying when he wanted to beg for something, but those days had long past. He wasn't praying to God, anyway. He was praying to someone who owed him. Someone who owed him big time.

Yes, Nick had decided that being admitted to this mental hospital was worse than being possessed by Satan, and every morning and every night, he made sure to let Satan know that.


	12. Kevin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin calls Garth for backup, but Garth doesn't seem as focused as he should be.

It took four calls before Garth answered the phone, and when he finally did, he sounded rather distracted and frazzled. Kevin could only assume that he had interrupted him in the middle of a hunt.

"Sorry, Garth, but this is really important... Sam and Dean's dad just came back as a demon. He set part of the bunker on fire and... and..." Kevin felt himself choking on tears, preventing him from finishing his sentence. No, no, he'd told himself that he wouldn't cry... There was a reason he had volunteered to make the call instead of letting Dean do it...

"Whaaaaaaat?" Garth said. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, positive. I saw him. But it's worse than that, Garth... It's Sam. He's... He's dead, Garth... His father killed him."

 _That_ got Garth's attention.

"No... No, not Sam... _Dammit_... What about Dean-- how's Dean?"

"Dean's fine... Well, physically fine, at least. He's a complete wreck other than that... Garth, we need you over here. This is a nasty one. We're calling you for backup."

There was a strangely long pause before Garth spoke again. "I'm... I'm sorta preoccupied right now, man."

"Are you joking?!" Kevin asked, outraged. "Didn't you hear me? Sam is DEAD. What can you possibly have going on that's more important than this?!"

"I'm, uh... I've been working on, um... It's been all over the news, I'm sure you--"

"The angel thing?" Kevin guessed.

"YES! Yes, that. That is what I've been working on."

Kevin frowned. Something about Garth's voice was telling him that that was not the case at all, and that he would have enthusiastically agreed to whatever Kevin suggested.

"Well, great, then," Kevin said. "That's probably what we'd be working on if the whole demon dad thing hadn't happened... We'll help you with the angel problem, you help us with the demon problem. All right?"

"Kevin, I... I really need to--"

"Just get over here as soon as possible, okay?" Kevin snapped. Without waiting for a reply, he hung up. What the hell had gotten into Garth?

Truth be told, Kevin was thrilled for an excuse to go after Metatron. He still cared about taking out the demon John Winchester, of course, but as far as Kevin was concerned, it was the Scribe of God's fault that he was in this situation in the first place. He didn't think he'd ever find someone that he hated more than Crowley, but Metatron?

If only they hadn't lost Sam, Kevin might have believed that having John Winchester come back as a demon was worth the opportunity to kill Metatron.


	13. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tries to bring Dean out of his broken, anguished state... Things go a bit better than planned.

"Please get up, Dean."

"No."

"Please?"

"Go _away_ , Cas."

Castiel stood there, gazing down at Dean sadly. It was the middle of the afternoon, the day after Sam's death, and Dean had not gotten out of bed. Kevin was in another room calling Garth; Castiel had suggested this after quickly realizing that there was no way they could take on the demon John on their own, especially not with Dean like this.

Pushing a pile of beer bottles out of the way, Castiel sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean was lying on his side with his back to Castiel, so Castiel couldn't see his face, but he felt the tense muscles soften ever so slightly under his touch.

"We'll beat him, Dean. We've killed hundreds of demons. Just try to think of him as just another demon... He's not your father anymore."

"That won't bring Sammy back."

This was beyond alarming. Castiel had never seen Dean like this, so... defeated. No matter how bleak things seemed, Dean Winchester had never been one to give up. Castiel knew that there had to be _some_ fight in him left since he had refused to burn Sam's bones, but Castiel wasn't certain that that was a healthy sign. True, the Winchester brothers did have a habit of coming back from the dead, but there had to be a last time eventually, and hunters had notoriously short lifetimes. Castiel was mourning Sam too-- he had grown to love him like he was his own little brother-- but right now they had more pressing concerns, namely a demon to defeat and an entire population of angels to send back to Heaven. Neither of these things could be accomplished with Dean in bed.

Castiel then became aware that he had been absentmindedly rubbing Dean's upper arm in a gentle and comforting rhythm. He removed his hand quickly, knowing how much Dean hated "chick flick moments," as he called them.

"Don't stop," Dean whispered. Castiel looked at him in alarm, caught off-guard by this sudden willingness for vulnerability. Furthermore, he could tell by the sound of Dean's voice that he was crying again. Castiel obeyed, laying down on his side beside Dean first so that he may reach over at a more comfortable angle. Dean sighed as he touched him again, then rolled over on his stomach so that Castiel may rub his back instead.

Castiel didn't know what to think. He couldn't deny that he had wanted Dean to let him in like this for a very long time, almost as long as they'd known each other, but not at this cost. He'd always imagined it with Sam there, either giving his approval or rolling his eyes and declaring "About time!" He'd always thought it'd be a joyous occasion, not a tragic one.

 _Calm down, Castiel_ , he cautioned himself. _It's only a backrub, not a marriage proposal... It's not like Dean and I have never had physical contact before..._ Castiel felt himself blush as he remembered the first time Dean embraced him. It wasn't the only physical contact they'd ever had, but nothing compared to the way Dean had wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him tight when he found him in Purgatory... Well, nothing until now.

There was just something so _intimate_ about it, feeling the not-so-steady rise and fall of Dean's breathing, knowing that he had finally reached the point where he no longer cared what other people thought. Not that he believed Dean shared his feelings, but he knew that he held a deep-seated fear of being humiliated and emasculated, which was undoubtedly an obstacle. The bedroom door was open, which meant that Kevin could wander in at any moment. If Dean was willing to risk that, that said a lot about how broken he currently was.

"You can rest now," Castiel murmured. "Kevin is calling for backup. Garth will be here soon, and when he gets here, we're... We're going to gank the sonofabitch, okay?" Dean let out a chuckle for the briefest moment, amused as always by the way Castiel attempted to mimic his pattern of speech, but then silenced himself abruptly, feeling guilty for finding humor in the present situation. Castiel knew it was a bit morbid to make him laugh right now, but this was the closest thing he had seen to progress since they lost Sam, so he gave it another try.

"We're gonna take that motherfucker down, and then we'll go get us some pie."

"Cas, stop it," Dean begged, unsuccessfully stifling his giggle.

"Maybe we'll pick up a few chicks and slam down some beers while we're at it. Oh, and we're gonna gank Metatron's sorry ass too."

"Cas--"

"Sonofabitch."

"Cas, plea--"

"Asian cartoon porn."

" _Cas_!"

"Assbutt!"

That was the breaking point. Without warning, before Castiel could utter another word, Dean had jumped up, shoved Castiel into the mattress, and then straddled his hips, pinning his wrists above his head and staring angrily into his eyes.

"I said _stop it_ ," Dean growled. Castiel couldn't breathe. He couldn't even think. Dean's face was so close to his that their noses were almost touching. He could smell his breath, heavy with alcohol, and he could see every single vein in his bloodshot, tear-filled eyes.

"I'm glad you're up, Dean," Castiel said, resuming his normal tone of voice.

When Kevin came by to tell them what he and Garth had talked about, he found Dean in Castiel's lap, kissing him roughly and furiously while his fist tangled in Castiel's hair.

"Um... I'll, er... come back later..."


	14. Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Garth go on their first date, and each learns something shocking about the other.

Gabriel had not been on a proper date in an excruciatingly long time. He was pretty sure that his last one had been with the goddess Kali. Thinking about Kali felt strange now; he had missed her so much the entire time he was dead, but ever since meeting Garth, she had hardly crossed his mind. It was probably for the best-- after all, she did try to kill him the last time he saw her. He hoped to God that he wouldn't run into a similar situation with Garth, but what were the odds of that? Unless Garth was secretly a hunter, which Gabriel very much doubted. Cute as he was, the dude was way too scrawny to look like someone who killed the supernatural for a living.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Garth asked, smiling at him from across the table. They were sitting on the patio of a local coffee shop, sipping hot chocolate while they shared a small raspberry cheesecake. It was broad daylight, but one of the employees insisted on placing a lit candle on the table anyway, winking at Gabriel and whispering "More romantic!"

"Just how glad I am that I met you," Gabriel said. "How glad I am to be here."

This made Garth giggle and blush like a schoolgirl, which Gabriel loved, but the mood was soon ruined by a buzzing sound from underneath the table.

"Is your phone ringing again?" Gabriel teased, keeping his tone lighthearted so as not to make Garth feel embarrassed.

"Yeah, sorry," Garth said apologetically. He pulled it out briefly, then stuck it back into his pocket. "It's the same person. I'll call them back later."

"You sure? They've already called twice..."

"Yeah, don't even worry, man."

Gabriel bit his lip. He had a suspicion that Garth was hiding something from him, but he kept telling himself that he was only being paranoid. So what if he was talking to another guy? They weren't exclusive or anything... But no, he couldn't be talking to another guy. Paranoia, that's all it was. Just paranoia.

All too soon, the cheesecake was devoured and their mugs were empty, but neither man was ready for the date to be over. Once they both bashfully admitted this, they began coming up with options for part two. Unfortunately, neither of them had an abundance of money or ideas; the coffee shop had been simple, but a little pricey.

"How about this?" Gabriel said after a while. "If I'm not being too forward... Why don't we go to my place-- I'll kick my brothers out for a few hours-- and we can just watch TV or something?"

"Sounds great!" Garth replied enthusiastically.

As they made their way to the infamous motel room, Garth's phone vibrated for the third time. Garth was obviously trying to pretend that he hadn't noticed it, so Gabriel decided to do the same, masking his annoyance. Why didn't he just turn his phone off if he wasn't going to answer it? It wasn't like any lives depended on being able to reach him.

Balthazar and Samandriel were all too pleased to give Gabriel and Garth some privacy. ("Condoms and lube are in the top left drawer," Balthazar whispered before leaving.) They didn't say where they were going, but they promised not to be back until morning.

They tried watching TV. They really did. But it quickly became obvious that they were more interested in each other than whatever was going on in _LOST_. They were both half laying, half sitting on the bed, Gabriel with his arm around Garth's shoulders and his hand reaching up to play with this hair. Meanwhile, Garth was lightly tracing patterns onto Gabriel's thigh, slowly inching his way higher... How could Gabriel concentrate on _anything_ with him doing that?

That was when Garth's phone buzzed for the fourth time.

"Answer it," Gabriel ordered.

"No, it's oka--" Garth began, but he was cut off by Gabriel moving in front of him and pressing his lips to Garth's.

"Answer it," he said, pausing every few words to kiss him again. "So we. Can keep doing this. Without. Interruption!"

That was all the convincing Garth required. "Hello?"

Gabriel watched as Garth listened half-halfheartedly, clearly wanting to end the conversation as soon as possible. This made Gabriel feel better.

"Whaaaaaaat? Are you sure?" Garth asked. There was another pause as the mysterious person on the other end spoke, and Garth's expression abruptly changed from impatient to distraught. Now Gabriel was worried.

"No... No, not Sam... _Dammit_... What about Dean-- how's Dean?"

Gabriel felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. No. There was no way. It had to be a different Sam and Dean; it had to be a coincidence. There was no way, _no way_ , that Garth could be a hunter.

Garth noticed Gabriel's expression and bit his lip. There was no denying that the person on the other end of the phone had his attention now, but Gabriel still had his attention too.

"I'm... I'm sorta preoccupied right now, man." Garth began looking around the room frantically, as if trying to search for something. "I'm, uh... I've been working on, um..." (His eyes found yesterday's newspaper resting on the nightstand.) "...It's been all over the news, I'm sure you-- YES! Yes, that. That is what I've been working on."

What the hell were they talking about?! As Gabriel thought about it, he realized that he and Garth had never discussed Garth's occupation... He hadn't asked for fear of having to answer the same question...

"Kevin, I... I really need to--"

 _Okay, so his name's Kevin_ , Gabriel thought. _Wait, shit, isn't there a prophet named Kevin?_

Garth slipped his phone back into his pocket without saying goodbye. The mysterious Kevin must have hung up on him.

"Garth?" Gabriel asked hesitantly. "What's wrong?"

"A friend of mine just died," Garth said sadly. "We, um... We worked together. That was another friend of ours... He wants me to come help with, um, you know... funeral arrangements and stuff."

"I'm so sorry." Gabriel did his best to keep his voice gentle, even though he was being flung into full-on panic mode now. He recognized a lie when he saw one.

"Who was it?" he dared to ask. "I mean, what was his name? I might know him... I've been around a lot."

"I doubt it," Garth said, shaking his head. "This guy traveled all the time... It was Sam, though. Sam Winchester."

Gabriel sat there, frozen in shock for a moment as his sickening fear was practically confirmed. There was only one last nail to drill into the coffin, and he decided it was better to go for it sooner than later, so he requested the last needed piece of information in the most direct way possible.

"Garth... Are you a hunter?"

Garth's eyes widened. He had clearly not been expecting that. "...Are you?" he asked. "I mean... You can't be, though... I would have already known about you if you were... I'm the middleman... I'm the center of the entire American hunters' network... Who are you?!"

Gabriel took a deep breath and slid off the bed slowly, taking a few steps back, just in case Garth would want to attack him once he revealed himself. It seemed like every hunter had a different attitude about angels, so he couldn't be too careful.

"My name isn't really Gabriel Richardson," he confessed. "I'm not even human... or at least, I wasn't until recently... I am Gabriel, former archangel of the lord. I fell from Heaven with the rest of my siblings when the scribe Metatron took over... and I do know Sam and Dean Winchester."

Garth's mouth fell open. Gabriel waited patiently, allowing Garth to process this startling news so soon after receiving other startling news. It didn't look as though Garth had any intention of harming him, but still, Gabriel was desperate for him to say something, anything.

"So, uh..." Garth spoke at last. "Do you still wanna make out, or...?"


	15. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is determined to make himself immune to holy water so the incident from the bunker can't happen again.

John glared. "What do you _mean_ 'no can do'?"

"Sorry, but you're a demon!" the necromancer said. "Demons are allergic to holy water. Can't be fixed."

John was livid. It was hard enough swallowing his pride and asking Mr. Glittery-Business-Card for help, but to hear that there was nothing he could do? He refused to accept that he had demeaned himself for nothing.

"Right now, that is my _only_ Achilles's Heel," John growled. "And it's a big one. Tell me how to cure it, or I will destroy you."

To John's fury, the necromancer began to laugh. "Go right ahead. I raised you, bucko. You kill me, you go straight back to Hell."

"I can get a new vessel."

"Do it, then," the necromancer challenged.

John hesitated. He wanted so desperately to end this infuriating man's life, but even though he was not useful in this regard, there was still a chance that he may be useful in the future. Besides, though it was true that he could get a new vessel, he didn't particularly feel like going through the effort or losing the dramatic, painful effect that his own appearance had. Granted, there was always a chance that the necromancer was lying to save his life, but did John really want to take that risk?

"Then find a non-supernatural solution," John insisted. "I'll wear a fucking deep sea diving suit if I have to! Just. Get me. _Something_."

The necromancer stared at him with one eye squinted, stroking his beard in thought.

"Very well... Let's bust out some science, then."


	16. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garth brings some friends along to his meeting with Dean, Castiel, and Kevin.

There was fire in Dean's soul again. Was it really possible that just yesterday he had been on the verge of giving up?

The source of the change was no mystery. Something had awakened in him as he and Castiel unleashed years of repressed frustration. Dean felt as though he'd spent half his life shouting "no homo," either literally or metaphorically, and he discovered that there was great power in letting go of all that pent-up fear. Not that fucking Castiel could ease the pain he felt over losing Sam, but at least now he felt more in control... and, hey, finally making it happen with the love of his life wasn't too bad either.

"Garth will be here in about ten or fifteen minutes," Dean told Castiel and Kevin, having just gotten off the phone with him. "He says he's bringing some people with him."

"Who?" Castiel asked.

"He didn't say, but we need all the help we can get."

There were no arguments there, although all three of them had grown a bit more optimistic after finding a certain glitter-coated business card that Demon John had dropped in the bunker. The name on the card was "The Zombinator," which Dean had a difficult time taking seriously, but still, he figured it was worth looking into.

Dean and Castiel answered the door together when Garth arrived, which meant that they simultaneously got the shocks of their lives. Standing there with Garth, powerless but alive and well, were Gabriel, Balthazar, and Samandriel.

"...The Hell?!" Dean gasped.

"Surprise!" Balthazar cried out cheerfully.

"We fell too," Samandriel explained. "Dead angels get their own section of Heaven, but apparently Metatron's spell was powerful enough to include it."

"Don't worry," Garth assured them, cutting off Dean's suspicious protests. "They're the real deal."

"Yes, I can tell," Castiel said. "Even without my grace, I can recognize my brothers."

Dean, Castiel, Kevin, Garth, Gabriel, Balthazar, and Samandriel gathered around the bunker's long, wooden table. Dean noticed Garth holding hands with Gabriel at the exact same time Garth noticed Dean holding hands with Castiel.

"Are you...?" they asked together. Garth answered "yes" while Dean answered "shut up."

"Huh," Dean said. "I didn't know you swung that way, man."

"Dude, _I_ didn't even know I swung that way!"

"I hate to interrupt," Castiel cut in. "But I believe we have a couple of situations to discuss?"

"Right," Dean said, nodding. He pulled out the glittery business card and set it in the middle of the table. "Dad dropped this when he was here. Any of you know who 'The Zombinator' is?" Everyone shook their heads and stifled giggles except for Balthazar, whose eyes went wide with fear.

"I do!" he exclaimed. "Do _not_ be fooled by the name. That man is dangerous. He's an extremely powerful necromancer-- a little kooky, but still very, very dangerous. I pissed him off a few decades ago and he sent an entire cemetery after me!"

"Well, that explains how my dad was able to use his own body as a meatsuit," Dean said. "If this Zombinator dude raised him, then he can unraise him, right?"

"I would imagine so," Balthazar replied.

"Great, then we'll start there... Any luck on the Metatron situation?"

Garth, Gabriel, Balthazar, and Samandriel exchanged shifty looks with each other. "What?" Dean asked, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Well," Gabriel said. "We have a plan, but you're not going to like it... Truth be told I don't like it either, probably even less than you will, but we don't have any other choice."

"Spill it," Dean ordered.

"Well, see, we're not powerful enough to take him down," Samandriel said. "Not without our grace. Plus, we have no way of getting back in to Heaven. So what we need are some angels who _haven't_ lost their grace."

"Are there any of those left?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Yes," Castiel said. "But surely you don't intend..."

"You got any alternatives?" Gabriel questioned.

"What?" Dean said. "What am I missing here?"

"Metatron made every angel in Heaven except for himself fall," Samandriel explained. "But there were two angels that weren't in Heaven at the time."

Now Dean understood, and he was furious.

"No... _NO_! Are you guys shitting me?! You really want to send _Michael and Lucifer_ to stop him?! Those sons of bitches will probably _help_ him, if anything! Are you forgetting that one of them is literally The Devil?! Besides, they're in The Cage! Even if they could help-- which I really, really, seriously doubt-- how are we supposed to bust them out?"

"Well, see, that's where we were hoping you could help," Garth said timidly. "We're going to need someone with access to Hell. Samandriel's been trying to employ some demons--" (Dean let out a scoff of disbelief) "--or reapers, but it's been tough. Neither are very cooperative, and we just don't have the time."

"What the hell are you suggesting, Garth?" Dean snapped. "You think I'm buddies with someone who has access to Hell?!"

"Not 'buddies,' necessarily, but maybe you just know someone? Someone on our side? You're a hunter, Dean; you must have some resources."

"Not like that!"

"Yes we do," came a quiet voice. Everyone turned. Kevin, who had been silent the entire meeting, had finally spoken up.

"Excuse me?" Dean said, eyebrows raised.

"We do have someone on our side with access to Hell," Kevin clarified. "Or did you guys forget that we still have Crowley in the dungeon?"


	17. Abaddon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, story time!

Abaddon called off the dozens of hellhounds that stood guard and continued to step forward. Nobody was allowed in this part of Hell; nobody except the demon in charge, which just so happened to be her now.

Her eyes sparkled with delight as she came closer. She had always wanted to see it, and it was just as beautiful as she'd imagined it-- bigger than a skyscraper, with bars made of white blue flame. It was only ever meant for one resident, (one _specific_ resident), but as she peered inside, she realized that two more had joined the original.

"Please." A pair of large, bright but dead-looking blue eyes gazed at her from between the flames. Their owner was a young man who looked to be in his early to mid twenties. "Get me out of here. Please. This wasn't supposed to happen..."

"Who are you?" Abaddon asked.

"Adam Milligan. I'm Michael's vessel. Please... Please get me out..."

"You're not a soul," Abaddon observed. "You're a living human... How did you get in there?"

"My half brother dragged us down."

"Your half brother?"

"Sam Winchester."

" _Excuse me_?!"

Soon enough, Adam was telling Abaddon the story of the apocalypse that never was. He had just reached the part where he was first told that he would be Michael's vessel when a bright light appeared behind him.

"Did I hear my name?" the light asked. Its voice was rather sinister for an angel. "Who is this lovely lady?"

"Abaddon. I'm the new Queen of Hell. And I take it you're the archangel Michael?"

"I am."

"Your meatsuit here was just telling me how you two got down here... I've been away, see. I've missed a lot of excitement. Is your brother still in there?"

"Well, of course... Hey, Lucifer! Come meet your new queen!"

"Leave me alone," came a distant voice, similar to Michael's.

"What's he doing?" Abaddon asked.

"Pouting, probably," Michael said. "All he's done since Sam was rescued... I hardly even need to protect Adam anymore; he's gotten bored of torturing him." At these words, Adam gave Abaddon a look that suggested to her that Lucifer was not the only one who made a habit of torturing him, but she chose to ignore it.

"Finish your story, Adam Milligan," she commanded. He obliged, occasionally getting interrupted by Michael or Lucifer shouting out a correction to something he had said. Abaddon listened intently, hoping for one of them to let slip a weakness of either Sam or Dean's that she could pass along to John. Of course, even without such luck, this was clearly useful information. She had missed more than she thought.

"I want more hellhounds around The Cage," Abaddon ordered once she was back in the section of Hell where demons stayed. "We have two archangels in there, and there's only one angel left in Heaven. _Nobody_ is to get in or out of that area. Do you understand? I don't care if it already has maximum security-- increase it."

Once again, Abaddon was pleased with herself... until she remembered that the key to The Cage was still in the possession of Hell's previous monarch.


	18. Kevin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Third Trial is repeated.

The procedure was going shockingly smoothly, besides the obvious morbidness of it. Kevin was not forced to experience the symptoms that Sam did since he was committing the act on its own rather than as part of the Hell Trials.

It was decided very quickly that Crowley needed to be cured again, properly this time. Too much time had passed, leaving almost no trace of humanity left in him. Dean had expressed a preference for either Garth or "Alfie," the purest souls they had, but Kevin volunteered. He wanted to be the one to stop Crowley once and for all, even if it meant curing him instead of destroying him.

"I'm sorry, Kevin," he whispered as the penultimate injection was stabbed into his neck. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I'm so sorry for everything I put you through." Kevin ignored him, leaving the dungeon. The hour wait in between injections was incredibly anxiety-inducing, but it least it meant that Kevin didn't have to lose too much blood all at once.

"How is he?" Castiel asked. He and Samandriel were staying to guard Kevin while the others were on their way to confront The Zombinator. Castiel had wanted to go with Dean, but Dean wouldn't allow it. Staying in the bunker was slightly safer; only slightly, but still.

"Nearly there," Kevin said. "Only one more to go."

"Good," Castiel said. "Let him go now."

Kevin was certain he had misheard. "Wha... Now? I said he's still got one more."

"Precisely," Castiel explained. "Once he's human, he won't be able to come and go through Hell as he pleases. Right now he's as close as he can be while still being a demon. We have to send him immediately."

" _NO_!" Kevin shouted. "NO! This was supposed to stop him! This was supposed to stop him for good! We can't just turn him lose before we finish it!"

"Sorry, Kevin, but we have no other choice," Samandriel chimed in. "This is the only way we can break open The Cage."

"There is a chance we may still be able to finish the task, if Crowley returns in time," Castiel said.

"He's not going to return at all! You know he won't! Why would he?!"

"I can release him myself if you are opposed to the plan," Castiel offered.

"No," Kevin said firmly. "No... This is mine."

He returned to the dungeon, seething. Tears were still slowly streaming down Crowley's face.

"Wha-- what are you doing?" Crowley asked as Kevin began to undo his shackles.

"So you're really sorry, huh? You're really sorry for everything you've done to me and all the people I care about?"

"Yes. Truly. Sincerely."

"Good, because you're about to do something to make up for it."

"Anything!"

"I need you to go to Hell and open Lucifer's cage."

"...Pardon?"

"You heard me."

"That... That would be _very_ ill-advised." Kevin had removed all of his bindings and erased part of the demon trap, but Crowley remained where he was, showing no indication that he planned to escape.

"We need Michael and Lucifer to take down Metatron."

"That's insane! _Lucifer_?! You're gonna kill a lot more people besides Metatron if you let Luci out..."

"I know, but it's the best we've got right now," Kevin said grimly. "Will you at least let Michael out?"

"That I can do," Crowley muttered reluctantly.

"Good. Now go. And come back to this bunker once it's done."

With a brief salute, Crowley vanished, and then it was Kevin's turn to start crying.


	19. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets The Zombinator's new assistant, and does not like her one bit.

"Here you are, sir," the unfamiliar woman said brightly. "All the materials you need to make hydrophobic clothing."

"Thank you, Natalie," The Zombinator replied, taking the supplies from her. "That will be all."

"Who the hell is that?" John asked once the woman was out of earshot.

"Oh, just my assistant."

"You have an assistant? Since when?"

"Just recently, actually. I hired her while you were off killing people... Oh, don't give me that look! I'm sure we can trust her. Who would believe her anyway? My last assistant tried to tell people that he worked for a necromancer, and he got locked in the loony bin!"

"Whatever you say," John growled. He didn't know why, but he didn't like this Natalie person. She seemed way too comfortable in her job, and John could swear that she was watching them as The Zombinator set to work on solving John's holy water problem.

"Sir, I've brought in the mail."

"Yes, thank you, Nancy. Just set it on my desk."

"I thought her name was Natalie," John said. The Zombinator ignored him, too preoccupied with the task at hand. Natalie/Nancy/whatever her name was gave John a mischievous smirk. He couldn't tell if it was meant to be threatening or flirtatious.

"You might as well go take a walk or something, Johnny Boy," The Zombinator said after a few minutes. "It's gonna take me a while to finish this."

"Would you like me to escort you?" Nancy/Natalie asked.

"Definitely not," John spat, stomping out the door.


	20. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Ash, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Rufus go after Metatron.

"A giant magnet? Seriously? That's your plan?"

"Hey, I don't see you coming up with anything!"

Sam buried his face in his hand. Without the angel army they'd been hoping for, he, Ash, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Rufus decided that they had no choice but to kill Metatron on their own. Of course, this was much easier said than done, as none of them possessed any sort of weapon that could kill an angel.

It was Jo who first suggested that they go after Metatron's angel blade. It was the only thing they knew of for certain that could destroy him, but actually acquiring it was going to be damn near impossible. They would first need to get close enough to Metatron to take it, and then there was the act itself of stealing it...

"I know it sounds nuts, but maybe nuts is what we need right now," Bobby said. "I'm with Ash on this one." Sam let out a sigh. He always had a hard time arguing with Bobby.

Ash reasoned that, at the very least, they had numbers on their side. His plan was to split up the group, with half of them acting as a distraction while the other half snuck in with a giant magnet. The magnet would pull Metatron's blade away from him, and whoever had the best opportunity for it would then take the blade and stab Metatron with it. Sam couldn't even count all of the different ways that plan could go wrong, but everyone else seemed on board with it, so he soon realized that he had no choice.

Bobby, Ellen, and Rufus were on distraction duty while Sam, Ash, and Jo were on magnet duty. For a moment, Sam was suspicious about how easy it was to break into Metatron's office, but then he remembered that it would be sort of difficult for him to have any kind of security when he had gotten rid of all the angels. Even so, carrying the magnet in was quite the task just because of how heavy and bulky it was. The thing was ridiculously cartoonish, both in terms of size and appearance. Sam couldn't help but think of the case where the world started adopting cartoon physics. Remembering old cases made him miss Dean and Castiel.

Suddenly, Sam, Ash, and Jo began hearing screams and crashes, which they took to mean that Bobby, Ellen, and Rufus had gotten Metatron's attention. They barged through the door, using the magnet as a kind of battering ram, and ended up directly behind the angel, who had already drawn his blade.

The magnet did nothing.

Sam and Jo gave Ash a look, silently demanding to know why it wasn't working. Ash simply stood there, frozen in shock and fear. Metatron began to laugh.

"Wait... seriously? You came to attack me with... a giant magnet?! _What_?!" He threw his head back, cackling hysterically. It didn't even sound like an evil laugh-- he was genuinely amused at their apparent stupidity.

Luckily, Rufus was thinking quickly. He lunged forward, reaching for the blade, but Metatron whooshed out of the way just in time, vanishing and then reappearing a couple feet away.

" _Ooooooohhhhh_ , I get it now," Metatron said. "You're after this." He waved the blade at them in a windshield wiper motion. "Angel blades aren't made of metal, you jackasses! This thing is a physical manifestation of my grace!"

"Oh," Ash muttered softly.

"Tell you what," Metatron said. "Since I'm such a nice ruler of Heaven, I'll let you all off with a warning... Just leave now and never come back, and I promise there will be no punishment."

"NOT A CHANCE!" Bobby shouted. He ran towards Metatron the same way that Rufus did, but this time Metatron flicked his wrist and Bobby vanished. "...Except for him," Metatron said.

"WHERE DID YOU SEND HIM?!" Sam demanded. Metatron didn't answer; instead, he simply flicked his wrist once more, and Sam, Ash, Jo, Rufus, and Ellen found themselves back at The Roadhouse. There was no sign of Bobby or Metatron.

"BOBBY?!" Sam called out, spinning around in hopes of spotting him. " _BOBBY_!"

Ellen gripped Sam's shoulder, steadying him as he sank to his knees in despair. Rufus shuffled off, mumbling something about needing a drink, while Jo came to sit at Sam's other side, wanting to comfort him but not having the words. Meanwhile, Ash was having a complete breakdown, even worse than the way he had reacted to seeing the empty Meta-Heaven.

" _Giant magnet_... This is all my fault..."


	21. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Garth, Gabriel, and Balthazar break into The Zombinator's home and run into someone they weren't expecting.

"This is the place," Balthazar said. They were hiding in the woods nearby a run-down looking shack that was supposedly the home of The Zombinator. Dean gripped his gun tighter.

"All right," Dean said. "Me and Balthazar are gonna go through the back while you two go through the side. Remember, we want to interrogate him first, so aim for the legs if you can. If not, shoot to kill." Garth and the angels nodded grimly.

"Christ, this guy's got a cemetery in his backyard!" Dean whispered as he and Balthazar came around the rear entrance. Balthazar shrugged. "Convenient, I suppose," he whispered back.

Dean picked the lock and he and Balthazar slipped inside. The room they were in appeared to be some sort of workshop, but more gruesome. Perhaps Frankenstein's laboratory would have been a better comparison. Bloody tools, miscellaneous body parts, and jars of unidentifiable chemicals were scattered all over, some even hanging from the ceiling. Even the books-- all of which were written in a language that Dean couldn't read-- were covered in gore.

But before Dean could get a closer look at anything, a rotting, severed arm suddenly came flying out of nowhere and gripped his throat, pushing him back up against the wall. Gasping for air and trying to pry the arm off, he looked over and saw that Balthazar was having similar troubles with what looked like a crocodile skull.

At that moment, Garth and Gabriel joined them, but they were soon tied together and pinned to the floor by what Dean was pretty sure was human hair, moving and twisting of its own accord, unattached to any scalps.

"Well, well, well," came a surprisingly cheery voice. "What have we here? Company? Why didn't you sillies just knock? Unless..." His voice shifted abruptly, suddenly threatening. "You're not company. You're burglars. Or assassins."

The man looked like... well, there was no other word for it: a hillbilly. His gray beard came down to his knees, and he wore red plaid underneath denim overalls. Some of his teeth were missing or discolored.

" _You're_ a necromancer?!" Dean said incredulously, having loosened the arm's grip just enough to not suffocate.

"That I am," The Zombinator replied. "Say, aren't you Dean Winchester?"

"Damn right I am. And you're the one that raised my dad from ash!"

"Aw, shucks, it was no big thing... Well, no, actually it was, but I'm pretty advanced, as you can tell."

"Please," Garth spoke up from the floor. "We just want to talk."

"Uh-huh. Right. That's why you're all carrying guns."

"That was just for precaution!" Gabriel said. "Look, with all due respect, we think you made a humungo mistake raising John Winchester from the dead. We were hoping that maybe we could strike some sort of deal if you put him back."

At this, The Zombinator laughed. "I guarantee none of you could possibly offer me anything that I would want. Besides, you're barkin' up the wrong tree. I could take his body away, sure, but the man's a demon. All he's gotta do is jump in another one."

"All right, fine!" Balthazar cried. "We're done here, then. We'll just be leaving."

The Zombinator laughed again. "Oh, you're cute... You're all so cute... But that's not gonna happen. I'll tell you what's gonna go down here. I'm gonna keep Dean right there, because I know his daddy will be mad at me if I kill him for him. So instead, he gets to watch while I kill the rest of you. Okay?" And with that, the crocodile skull began to maul Balthazar's face while the massive glob of hair tightened around Garth and Gabriel's bodies like a boa constrictor. Dean stood there, unable to move, screaming for it to stop. He couldn't handle it... It was too much... Not right after Sam...

And then, out of nowhere, it was over. The Zombinator let out a gasp and the severed arm and crocodile skull fell to the floor while the hair loosened and fell apart. They had all been so distracted by the horror that none of them, not even The Zombinator, had noticed the woman who snuck in and quite literally stabbed him in the back. The Zombinator fell face-forward, dead, leaving the woman to stand there panting and holding a long steak knife.

"Hello, Dean," the woman said. "Sorry about my boss."

" _Naomi_?!"


	22. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is determined to open The Cage... or is he? He is. No, he isn't. Yes, he is. No, he isn't...

The closer he got, the more he second-guessed himself. It made him feel bipolar, the constant back and forth between "Why the fuck am I doing this for them?" and "I _need_ to do this for them."

Crowley pulled his hood a little lower over his face. It felt odd wearing a pullover sweater when he was so accustomed to fine-tailored suits, but he needed to be in disguise. If Abaddon caught him... Well, he didn't even want to think about what would happen.

The security surrounding The Cage was a total joke, at least for Crowley. The hellhounds there were only supposed to obey the current king or queen of Hell, which Crowley no longer was, but he had something that Abaddon didn't: his own hound.

He waited until he was close before whistling for Growley. Having the massive dog follow him all the way through Hell would have attracted too much attention. Once he arrived, it took less than two minutes to scatter the security hounds; even the largest was only two thirds of Growley's size, and once Growley took her down, none of the others had any desire to challenge him. Crowley loved his dog.

 _Well, this is it, Crowley_ , the former king thought, approaching the flaming bars. He stopped. Then took a step back. Then took a step forward. Then took another step back.

_Hurry up, you moron, time is of the essence here!_

_No. I won't do it. I'm happy that the angels are fallen. Why would I try to help?!_

_I've done so much bad... Hurt so many people... This is my chance to make it up..._

_"Make it up"?! To who?! You are a demon and the rightful King of Hell. You don't owe anybody anything. Take back what's yours!_

_This is what Bobby Singer would have wanted._

Crowley took a deep breath, stepped forward once again, and plunged the key into The Cage's lock before he could argue with himself any further. The door burst open as two flashes of light came shooting through it, up, up, and up, on their way out of Hell. Exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Crowley fainted.

He never even noticed that there was one prisoner missing.


	23. Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is reunited with an old "friend."

"I am so sorry, Nick."

Nick looked up, rubbed his eyes, and then looked again. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"You're dreaming, Nick," the man who looked like Sam Winchester said. "It's me."

"L... Lucifer?"

"Yes."

"But... How? Why now?"

"After I left you, I was thrown back into my cage," Lucifer explained. "But I'm out now, so I've finally heard your prayers... I've escaped from my prison, and now I'm here to help you escape from yours... I just need one little word. You know which one I mean, Nick."

"What about Sam Winchester?"

"Sam won't say yes to me. Not again... but you will."

Nick hesitated. After all that time and energy spent praying to get out, he was starting to wonder if he should say no. He had to consider what he was getting himself into. Being possessed by _Satan_... let alone being possessed by him for the second time... He nearly died after his last yes...

"I'm waiting, Nick."

Fuck. Who was he kidding? He was desperate enough. He was plenty desperate enough. He'd rather die than spend another night in this God forsaken hospital.

"Yes."


	24. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has a lot of nerve.

Dean's eyes widened with pure lust. Sitting in front of him was the most perfect apple pie he had ever seen in his entire life. Its circumference was greater than that of a large pizza, and its thickness made it look more like three pies stacked on top of each other. He picked up his fork and knife and was just about to dig in when he noticed something very odd: The pie had a face.

"The hell?" Dean said.

"Sorry about this," the pie said. "But we need to talk."

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are, but what I'm saying to you is real... It's me, Dean. Michael. I'm out of The Cage."

"Michael!" Dean gasped. "Woah, I almost ate you there, man."

"This is no time for jokes, Dean. What's happened? Why have all my siblings fallen?"

"It was Metatron... That's why we sent Crowley to go get you out, actually. So you could stop him. Since all the other angels can't."

"You do realize he let Lucifer out as well?"

"Yeah, well, um..." Dean shuffled nervously. "We kinda thought... the more the better, y'know?"

Michael laughed in the most bitter, sarcastic way possible. "You're honestly suggesting that Lucifer and I work together? Have you forgotten the apocalypse?"

"Oh, come on, man. That was years ago; let it go!"

Michael scoffed, but then said, "Whatever. It's irrelevant anyway. I need a favor first."

"What?" Dean asked warily. He didn't trust Michael.

"Abaddon took Adam. I don't know why, but I am vessel-less. So if I'm going to have any hope of defeating Metatron..." Michael trailed off and Dean felt his stomach drop.

"No."

"This won't be like the apoc--"

"No!"

"I can't do it without you, Dean!"

"Just pick a different vessel! A temporary one!"

"If I do that, I won't be at full power. If I'm going to beat Metatron, it's going to have to be either you or Adam, and I have no idea where Adam is right now."

Dean hesitated. On one hand, Michael could definitely be lying, and even if he wasn't, surely an archangel was powerful enough to be dangerous even in a wrong vessel. Lucifer seemed to manage just fine with that blond guy, before Sam said yes. On the other hand, was it worth the risk? What if Michael just straight-up refused to help unless Dean said yes?

"I'll think about it," Dean said.

"Very well," Michael replied. Next thing Dean knew, he was waking up in the back seat of the Impala. They were on their way back to the Men of Letters Bunker, and Garth had offered to drive since Dean was feeling tired. They had also brought someone back with them; Naomi was sitting in between Dean and Balthazar, having begged them to take her along after she saved their lives. Dean wasn't very thrilled about the idea and he knew Castiel wouldn't be happy either, but she did appear to be on their side now, and there was a good chance that she could be useful later.

"You all right, Dean?" Gabriel asked, peering around the passenger seat to look at him.

"Michael's trying to get me to say yes again," Dean growled. There was a collective gasp around the car, and Dean briefly recapped his dream for them.

"What are you gonna do?" Garth asked, worried.

"I'm gonna wait until we get back to The Bat Cave," Dean said. "I'm gonna talk to Cas about it first."


	25. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a new suit, in more than one sense of the word.

John looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. The hydrophobic jumpsuit he had just put on was a little baggy on him since The Zombinator had designed it for his old body, but it would have to do. He was lucky that Abaddon had been able to provide him with such an appropriate replacement, especially on short notice.

Still gazing into the mirror, John smirked, and Adam Milligan's face smirked back at him. In a way, this body was actually better-- he had already given it an anti-exorcism mark, and he knew that Dean would be hesitant to kill Adam. Plus, it just sorta felt nice being young again.

John's eyes wandered from his new face to his new clothes. The Zombinator had been planning on making gloves, boots, and a mask to go along with the jumpsuit, but these plans were cut short by his untimely demise. John figured that he could compensate with rubber kitchen gloves and rain boots, but he wasn't sure how he was going to protect himself above the neck.

John left the bathroom and made his way back to The Zombinator's workshop, just in case he could find something useful in there. The Zombinator's corpse was still lying there, rotting along with all the body parts he liked to keep, which John found delightfully ironic.

The only thing really bothering him now was the assistant. Nancy or Natalie or whatever. Where was she? She should have been present when her boss was killed-- why didn't she call for help or something? Could she have ran away when she heard trouble? Or worse... What if she was the trouble?

 _You know what?_ he thought. _It is none of my concern anymore. I have a new vessel, and my holy water-proof suit. He has outlived his usefulness. As long as What's-Her-Name doesn't come for me, I'm just not going to worry about it._

After doing one last sweep of the workshop, John left. It was time to go shopping.


	26. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Garth, Gabriel, Balthazar, and Naomi return to the bunker. Dean tells Castiel about Michael's request, and Garth summons Lucifer.

Castiel about had a heart attack when Naomi came through the door, which was really saying something considering that he was still getting used to his human heart.

He was prepared to pounce, growling "Get away from him," before Dean hastily explained that she had saved them. Castiel continued to glare at her suspiciously while Dean, Garth, Gabriel, and Balthazar took turns recapping everything that had happened during their trip.

"So your father's necromancer is dead then?" he said once they finished their story.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed.

"He'll be looking for a new vessel then."

"Most likely."

"And Michael wants your consent because Adam has gone missing?"

"Yeah."

"Wait a minute," Kevin interjected. "You don't think... You don't think those two things are related, do you?"

Castiel hadn't thought of that, and judging by the look on Dean's face, he hadn't either. "Sonofabitch," Dean whispered.

"Well, regardless of what happened to Adam," Naomi said. "Michael needs a vessel."

"Well he's not taking Dean," Castiel said immediately. There was an uncomfortably long pause before Gabriel softly replied "We might not have a choice."

"NO!" Castiel shouted. "He can't take Dean without Dean's consent, and Dean will not consent. Right?" He looked toward Dean, hoping for backup. Dean gazed back at him sadly.

"What else can I do, Cas? We can't gank Metatron without Michael, and if I don't say yes to him my dad's just gonna come and kill me anyway."

"Is this about Sam?" Castiel asked. "Are you giving up again? Please, Dean, we can beat your father, and Michael can beat Metatron with a different vessel. I won't let you do this."

Dean nodded. Naomi looked appalled. "What, so you're just... not going to do it, then?! Just like that?!" she cried.

"I trust Cas's judgement," Dean said firmly. Kevin gave him a look as if to say "since when?" but kept silent.

"So... What about Lucifer, then?" Castiel asked.

"We haven't made contact with Luci yet," Gabriel said. "We know that Crowley let him out though, so I guess we should reel him in before he starts any trouble."

"May I do the honors?" Garth asked eagerly. "I've always wanted to be able to say that I've summoned The Devil!" Everyone gave him an odd look, clearly having never seen that side of Garth before, but Gabriel laughed and said "Be my guest!"

Garth closed his eyes, made the sign of the cross over his body, and then brought his hands together in prayer position.

"Uh..." Dean said. "You know you don't have to--" Gabriel shot Dean a look, clearly indicating that he should let Garth do his thing.

"Lucifer," Garth said. "Dark Lord, Satan, Morning Star... My name is Garth Fitzgerald IV. I am a hunter, and I'm here with Dean Winchester, some of your sib--" He barely got past the second syllable in "Winchester" when Lucifer suddenly materialized in the bunker, wearing his former, temporary vessel.

"Well, this is different," Lucifer said in that calm, smooth voice of his. "Usually the only people who pray to me are lonely teenage goths who think it's cool to call themselves Satanists... Them and Nick here. Poor man. I just rescued him from an insane asylum."

Castiel noticed Garth wrap his arm around Gabriel's shoulders; the latter was quivering in what Castiel thought could have been either anger or fear. Despite his obvious discomfort, however, he was the first to speak up.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that all of you--" Lucifer's eyes wandered from Gabriel, to Naomi, to Balthazar, to Samandriel, to Castiel. "--Are missing something."

"It was Metatron," Naomi said.

"And now you need me to clean up the mess, since you can't."

"You won't be alone," Dean said. "We've asked Michael too."

Lucifer's eyebrows shot up. "You seriously think Michael's going to work with me? _Me_? We've been spending the last several thousand years trying to kill each other."

"Can you not put your childish feud aside for the sake of Heaven and Earth?" Castiel said.

"I don't see why I should... I was cast out, remember?"

"What, so you'd rather have Metatron in charge?" Gabriel exclaimed. "Destroying everything Dad made and worked for?"

Lucifer frowned slightly, deep in thought. Apparently he felt that Gabriel had a point.

"Get Michael here," he muttered after a while. "I'm willing to talk about this... Although, I do have one question first."

"And what would that be?" Castiel growled.

"Where's Sam?"


	27. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is betrayed by the one he trusted more than anybody.

When Crowley awoke, he was tied to a chair. _For fuck's sake_ , he thought. _How many more times is this going to happen this week?_

 _SMACK_! He hissed in pain as someone slapped him across he face. His attacker looked down at him, livid.

"Abaddon," Crowley grunted. She slapped him again.

"WHAT--" Slap. "THE--" Slap. " _HELL_ \--" Slap. "IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?!" she screamed at him. "YOU LET LUCIFER AND MICHAEL OUT OF THE CAGE?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"

"Hey, hey!" Crowley sputtered. "I didn't _want_ to! I was brainwashed!" Abaddon made a noise of disbelief and raised her hand to slap him again, but Crowley cried out "It's true! They figured out how to cure demons, and they brought me damn close!"

"How close?"

"Well I'm fine _now_..."

 _Slap_! "How do I know you're not lying to me?"

Crowley's eyes flashed red, and Abaddon relaxed a little.

"So," Crowley said. "How about a truce then, eh? We both want the Winchesters dead, and enemy of the enemy and all that. If we pull our resources together--"

"Nice try, Mr. Crowley, but no. Do you think I'm stupid? You want your throne back, I'm sure. I'm afraid I can't let that happen."

"I thought you might say that," Crowley sighed in disappointment. He then whistled, expecting his faithful hellhound to appear. There was an awkward silence when his rescuer never came.

"Looking for him?" Abaddon asked, stepping aside to reveal Growley lounging lazily in a corner, chewing on a bone. It was, without exaggeration, the most betrayed Crowley had ever felt in his entire life.

"Growley," he said softly. Then, to Abaddon: "You scratched his belly, didn't you?"

"You shouldn't put all your faith in someone so easily won over," Abaddon sneered. "But I suppose I'm glad you did. A queen needs a good guard dog."

"Oh, fuck it," Crowley spat. "What is it you want? Obviously you're not about to kill me, or you would have done it already."

"Well of _course_ I'm not going to kill you, Mr. Crowley!" Abaddon said, looking appalled by the very idea. "Like I said, I'm not stupid. I need you out of the way, but I think you can still be useful to me. You must be a gold mine of information... So I'm just going to put you somewhere for safe-keeping."

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"Where do you think?"

Even then, Crowley did not put two and two together until Abaddon dangled a set of keys in front of him. His keys.

 _Bollocks!_ he realized. _Of course. We're still next to Lucifer's cage._

"Let's find out which of these keys locks The Cage, hmm?" Abaddon said. "What, you didn't think I'd find your spares? Your office isn't _that_ well-protected. I admit, I'm stumped as to what you did with the originals, but no matter..." She walked around Crowley and grabbed the back of his chair, dragging him inside.

"No!" Crowley blurted before he could stop himself. "Please..."

"Begging will get you nowhere," Abaddon replied coldly.

Crowley had an awful lot of keys, so it took Abaddon a while to find the correct one, but the hassle seemed to delight her more than bother her. "I can't wait to find out what all of these open!" she cried gleefully. _And I can't wait to find out what the hell happened to my originals_ , Crowley thought. They had been in his pocket when he passed out...

Finally, at last, Crowley was locked in The Cage, still tied to his chair, and Abaddon was walking away with his once-loyal pet.

"Oh, come on!" Crowley screamed. "Abaddon! You're not really going to do this, are you? We can rule together! Abaddon? _ABADDON_!"

For a split second, Crowley wished that either Sam or Kevin would have just finished the job.


	28. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's life is put in danger, and Dean makes the ultimate sacrifice to save him.

The negotiations weren't going well, or at least, that's what they were told. Since Michael did not yet have a vessel, Dean, Garth, and Kevin stayed out of the room to avoid having their eyeballs and eardrums burned out. Every once in a while, either Castiel or Gabriel would come out to fill the humans in on what they'd discussed so far, which apparently was not much. Both parties were making unreasonable demands and refused to compromise; Lucifer wanted to help in exchange for being allowed back into Heaven, and Michael wanted to help in exchange for keeping Dean as a vessel.

"I need some air," Dean growled after a certain point, unable to deal with the drama any longer. Castiel insisted on accompanying him, brushing off his protests and assuring him that Gabriel, Naomi, Balthazar, and Samandriel could manage the meeting fine without him.

There was a small lake not very far from the bunker, so Dean and Castiel decided to walk around it. Their fingers were laced together, and Dean realized with a jolt that this was their first public, romantic display of affection. Granted, it hardly mattered since there was nobody else around, but it was still a big step for Dean. He was pushing aside over thirty years worth of paranoia and pseudo-masculinity just to hold his lover's hand.

They stopped and sat down near the lake's shore, Castiel resting his head against Dean's chest while Dean wrapped an arm around his waist. This was nice. This was comfortable. The sound of the water, the feel of the breeze, the chance to just stop and clear their minds for a bit...

"What the hell is _this_?!" came a voice. Dean and Castiel broke apart so that they may turn around and face the speaker. At first, they weren't sure who they were looking at-- he(?) was covered head to toe. The bulk of his wardrobe consisted of a navy blue jumpsuit, sort of like what a janitor would wear, with yellow kitchen gloves on his hands and matching rubber boots on his feet. Over his head was what appeared to be a dirt bike helmet, black and shiny, complete with a tinted face shield.

The stranger lifted the helmet very quickly-- just long enough for Dean and Castiel to see Adam Milligan's face with solid black eyes.

"This is quite the surprise," John said once his helmet was back on. "You always were a bit of a pansy, Dean, but this?" He turned his attention to Castiel. "I remember you. You shot me with holy water. And now you've turned my son into a fag." John raised a gloved hand, and Castiel shot up into the air.

 _No_ , Dean thought desperately. _No. Not Cas. Please._

"Hmm, darn," John said. "There's no ceiling out here... But no matter. I'm getting bored with fire anyway. Why don't we try something different today, hmm? How about water?" He moved his arm, and soon Castiel was hanging upside down directly above the lake's surface. Dean let out a moan, trying to fight off flashbacks of a different lake... of thousands of leviathan... of that lone trenchcoat floating back to him...

Castiel was dunked head first once, twice, three times, each for a few more seconds than the time before. Dean tried to lunge at John, but John simply kept poofing away and then reappearing a few feet away, laughing hysterically. Dean couldn't handle this, especially not so soon after Sam. Throughout the entire ordeal, his thoughts continued to scream, _NOT CAS. NOT CAS. NOT CAS. PLEASE, PLEASE, ANYBODY BUT CAS..._

"Any last words for your boyfriend before I drown him?" John sneered.

Dean didn't know what to do. He couldn't attack John; he was too fast for him and besides, what about Adam? But he couldn't call for help either. Who would hear him way out here?

 _Unless..._ Dean thought. He looked over at Castiel, who seemed to know what he was thinking. The look in his eyes was clearly telling Dean not to do what he was about to do, but what other choice did he have? He refused to let Castiel die.

"Yes," Dean said.

"Well, get on with it, then," John replied after a few moments of silence.

"Yes!" Dean cried, louder this time.

"Yeah, I heard you!" John snapped. "Now get on with it before I change my mind!"

Dean tried one last time. "MICHAEL!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. " _YES_!"

There was a flash of light, and Dean Winchester was no longer in control of his body. Castiel toppled into the water while John stood there, frozen in either shock or fear. He must have figured out exactly what just happened because, despite being so brave as a human, he obviously made a cowardly demon, and fled before Michael could get his hands on him.

Michael pulled Castiel out of the lake, smirking with Dean's lips. "Come on, little bro!" he said brightly. "I think Luci and I are ready to go take care of this Metatron problem."

Even after being completely soaked from his involuntary swim, Michael could still tell that Castiel was crying.


	29. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is invited along on another mission to destroy Metatron.

Sam chugged his beer, struggling to remain calm. Now he and the other hunters not only had to defeat Metatron, but rescue Bobby as well.

Ash was hard at work on a plan B, but Sam was not optimistic. He was trying to develop a sort of synthetic angel blade-- something that could kill Metatron, but did not have to be made out of an angel's grace. So far, those two qualities appeared to be at odds with each other.

"Sam."

The voice that was now calling him out of his brooding was gentle and familiar, and it filled Sam with pure terror. He turned around slowly, hoping to God that it had only been his imagination, but sure enough, there stood Lucifer.

Sam let out a scream, causing Ellen, Jo, Rufus, and Ash to come bursting into the room. For a split second, Sam wondered if he was hallucinating again, but judging by the way the others were all staring at Lucifer, clearly they could see him too.

"Who are you?" Ellen asked.

"Lucifer," Lucifer said. "Don't be alarmed-- I come in peace. Well, to you guys anyway. I'm here to dismantle Heaven's new dictatorship. I was wondering, Sam, if you'd like to join us?"

"'Us'?" Sam questioned. As if on cue, another figure suddenly appeared in the room, and Sam's mouth fell open. " _Dean_?!" he shouted incredulously. "You're-- you're working for Lucifer?! And dead?! _What_?!"

"Wrong, wrong, and wrong," the man who looked like Dean said lazily. "Sorry, but your big bro finally said yes to me. Crowley busted us both out of the cage."

Before Sam had time to react to this startling and upsetting piece of news, Lucifer cried out "Oh! That reminds me! You'll need this." He pulled an angel blade out of seemingly nowhere and held it out to Sam. "Crowley passed out after he busted my lock, so I doubled back and, um... borrowed some things."

Sam frowned. If Lucifer stole that from Crowley, then that meant...

"This is Alfie's blade."

"Who?" Lucifer said, confused.

"Never mind," Sam mumbled, accepting the weapon. "I'm in."

"Woah, hold on a minute," Jo piped up. "If Sam's going, we're going too. Bobby matters to all of us." There were nods and sounds of agreement from Ellen, Ash, and Rufus.

"Sorry, but I've only got one spare blade," Lucifer said. "No offense, but you guys would just be liabilities."

"Also, we're not here for Bobby, whoever that is," Michael cut in. "We're just here to kill Metatron. Anything else going on up here is your problem."

"Okay, fine," Rufus said. "But then why Sam? If you've only got one sword, I mean. I'm a more experienced hunter than he is, and I've known Bobby longer."

"We're _not_ here for that Bobby guy!" Michael repeated.

"Because I don't fucking know any of you people," Lucifer replied bluntly. "Sam and I have been through a lot together, haven't we, Sam? I know I can trust him." Sam looked at Lucifer, torn between feeling touched by the compliment and feeling worried about what being trustworthy to Satan said about his character.

"Why are we even discussing this?" Michael asked. "This isn't up for debate, and we need to leave now before Metatron finds out we're here."

"Yes, yes, you're right," Lucifer admitted grudgingly. He took Sam's hand and, before any of the other hunters could protest, flew away, Michael following close behind.

As they hurtled through the Heavens towards Metatron's office, Sam could have sworn he heard Lucifer whisper, "Oh, how I've missed you."


	30. Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Garth have a heart-to-heart talk that changes Gabriel's perspective.

"You're not really gonna do it, are you?" Garth asked. He and Gabriel were sitting by the very same lake that Castiel had nearly been drowned in just a few minutes previously. Now that Michael and Lucifer were on their way, the meeting was finished, and the archangel and his hunter decided they wanted some time alone.

"I think it's gonna come down to what Raphael says," Gabriel said. "Michael already said yes, the bastard... I know he only did it to get Lucifer to cooperate with the mission, but still..." The thought of having Lucifer back in Heaven chilled Gabriel to his very core. He hadn't forgotten that Lucifer was the one who killed him, and it was because of that that he found himself struggling not to shake whenever they were in the same room together.

"What about God?" Garth suggested. "I mean, doesn't he have even more authority than the archangels?"

"Yeah, he does, but none of us know what happened to him. Dad's totally M.I.A."

"So it's down to you, Michael, and Raphael."

"Yeah... Really just Raphael though, since he'll be the tiebreaker."

Gabriel let out a sigh of worry, and Garth pulled him closer. The former was sitting in between the latter's outstretched legs, leaning back against his torso. Garth planted a light kiss on the top of Gabriel's head and said, "It'll be okay. Raphael won't say yes."

"It's such a lose-lose situation though," Gabriel groaned. "Lucifer's _out of The Cage_ now. Even if we decide to throw him back in, he's gonna put up a hell of a fight. No pun intended."

"Well..." Garth hesitated before finishing his sentence.

"What?"

"Well, I mean... Would it really be _that_ crazy? Letting him back in, I mean."

"What?! Garth... Garth, this is _Lucifer_ we're talking about. Y'know, Satan? The Devil?"

"I know, but... he's also your brother. And didn't you say yourself that his falling and his fight with Michael were all just big temper tantrums? Maybe he just needs to be forgiven, and then he'll grow up."

Gabriel sighed deeply. "How is it that you always see the good in everyone?"

"Somebody has to," Garth said.

"True," Gabriel conceded. "I guess that's why I love you."

 _Shit!_ he thought. The moment the words slipped from his mouth, he bit his tongue and wished he could take them back. Humans always freaked out when you dropped the L word too soon, and he and Garth had only known each other for a few days. _Dammit_ , how could he be so stupid?!

But Garth gently gripped Gabriel's shoulders, turning him around so that they were facing each other. Then he leaned over and kissed him on the lips, passionately but not lustfully. It was sweet and caring and everything that Gabriel had ever wanted, but never had, not even with Kali.

"I love you too, Gabe," Garth whispered.


	31. Lucifer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Lucifer to make a new name for himself.

Metatron nearly fell out of his chair in shock when Lucifer, Sam, and Michael burst in. Obviously he was not expecting them, which was exactly what they wanted.

Michael lunged first, but Metatron managed to dodge it, standing up and wielding his own blade. He slashed at Michael, leaving a deep cut on his left bicep.

"HEY!" Sam shouted at Michael. "BE CAREFUL WITH THAT BODY!"

"How did you two get out of The Cage?" Metatron asked as Michael, Lucifer, and Sam closed in on him.

"Why do you care?" Lucifer snarled. "We're not planning on throwing you in there." He attempted to stab Metatron, but Metatron blocked the blow. Despite taking an out-of-shape vessel and spending most of his life pouring over books, Metatron had decent agility. Luckily, Lucifer and Michael were well-practiced, thanks to millenniums of antagonizing each other in The Cage.

"What have you done with Bobby?" Sam demanded. Metatron glanced over at a bookshelf in the corner, upon which sat what looked like a snow globe and a jam jar. Sam's gaze followed Metatron's, and Metatron tried to use the distraction as an opportunity to slit Sam's throat, but Lucifer managed to get his blade in between just in time.

"Go get your friend!" Lucifer ordered. "We can hold him off!" Sam obeyed, sprinting over to the bookshelf and flinging the snow globe against the wall. Bobby materialized in the room as the knick knack shattered, rescued from whatever scene Metatron had decided to trap him in. Lucifer was vaguely reminded of Gabriel and the types of tricks he liked to pull, and then he remembered that he was the one who taught Gabriel, and it wasn't too far-fetched to assume that Metatron may have secretly been paying attention.

Lucifer and Michael continued their fight with Metatron while Sam urged the newly freed bearded man to flee the scene. "Sam!" Lucifer called out. Metatron was resisting better than anticipated, and they needed him. Sam charged, rejoining the battle, while the one called Bobby turned around and threw the jam jar onto the floor the same way Sam had broken the snow globe.

"NO!" Metatron screamed. As millions upon millions of silvery white wisps of light came shooting out of shattered jar, Lucifer realized that that must have been where the scribe was housing all the angel graces he had robbed. Taking advantage of his preoccupation, Michael managed to whack Metatron's blade right out of his hand while Sam pierced his shoulder, pushing his borrowed weapon through him so hard that he pinned him to the wall. Metatron tried to reach for Sam's blade to pull it out, but he was writhing in pain, and before he could even get a decent grip on it, Lucifer was gently pushing Sam and Michael aside, knowing that his moment had finally arrived.

"From now on," Lucifer said. "When people speak of the archangel who betrayed God and became The Devil, they won't be talking about me."

Metatron let out his final scream as Lucifer stabbed him directly in the chest.


	32. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Metatron is defeated, Castiel is so done taking Michael's shit.

Something was definitely wrong. Gabriel, Balthazar, Samandriel, and Naomi were all glowing-- literally-- as their graces returned to them and their wings grew back. In Naomi's case, she even got something extra.

"What the hell is this?!" she gasped as the large stone tablet dropped into her arms from seemingly nowhere. Gabriel laughed hysterically before crying out "Ding dong, Metatron is dead! Congrats, new Scribe of God!"

"Oh!" Naomi said. "Well, it will be nice to have a boss that knows my name for a change... even if he's never around..."

Castiel just sat there and watched. What was going on? Why was everyone else returning to normal while he was still human?

Soon after, Michael and Lucifer came back, and the atmosphere in the room shifted from celebratory to serious. Castiel would worry about his grace later; there was something more important that he needed to take care of first.

"All right," he said. "You stopped Metatron... Now let Dean go."

"Excuse me?" Michael replied, eyebrows raised. "That wasn't the deal."

"Well I never agreed to that deal. You can have Adam back once we take care of John. Just get out of Dean _now_."

Michael laughed. "How are you going to make me? You don't get your grace back. Yours is the one Metatron used for the spell! It's all burned up now!"

"Maybe he can't make you," Gabriel said, drawing his blade. "But I can."

"As can I," Naomi agreed, drawing her own blade.

The angels slowly began to close in on him, and within a matter of seconds Michael was staring down the tips of not only Gabriel and Naomi's swords, but Balthazar's as well. Even Samandriel, who had long since lost his weapon to Crowley, stood there with a menacing glare on his boyish face. Castiel was touched.

"You're not serious!" Michael yelled, though he sounded very nervous. "You wouldn't kill Dean Winchester just to get rid of me!"

"You really want to test that?" Gabriel threatened, giving Michael a shallow but sharp jab in the chest. After a brief moment of contemplation, Michael apparently came to the conclusion that the risk was not worth it, for he suddenly shot off towards Heaven, leaving Dean behind.

"DEAN!" Castiel shouted. He ran to him, scooping up Dean's unconscious body into his arms. He held him close, and gradually Dean's eyes began to flutter open.

"C-Cas?" Dean whispered.

Sobbing with relief, Castiel pulled Dean to his feet and kissed him with great enthusiasm. Dean chuckled against his lips and then returned the kiss. Garth began to clap, and one by one everyone else joined in until the entire room was filled with applause.

"You've got to be _kidding_ me!" came a voice.

Everyone turned around. They had all been so preoccupied with the commotion with Michael that none of them had noticed Lucifer sneak off. He must have located Sam's body, which Castiel knew that Dean was keeping in the walk-in freezer, because there stood Sam, perhaps a bit chilly, but alive and well.

"Seriously, you guys?!" Sam continued, approaching Dean and Castiel with his arms outstretched. "You two _finally_ get together and I miss it?! Typical!"

Laughing at the stunned looks on their faces, Sam pulled Dean and Castiel into a tight hug, and the applause around them grew louder. Lucifer stood back and watched, arms crossed, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Hey, wait a minute," Samandriel said, noticing the blade dangling from Sam's belt. "Isn't that mine?"


	33. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abaddon is furious about the angel situation, so she takes it out on John.

John was doubled over in pain, clutching his crotch. Abaddon glared at him, panting, looking so murderous that he half wondered if she was going to kick him again.

"What was that for?!" he squeaked. "I just thought you'd want to know!"

"This wasn't a coincidence," Abaddon growled. " _That's_ why Crowley let Lucifer and Michael out... Those two are the reason all the other angels came back, I just know it..."

"So go kick Crowley in the nuts, then!" John gasped. "I swear, I locked it up good after I took Adam..."

"Oh, shut up. I believe you. I wouldn't have lent you the keys if you were _that_ incompetent... But you're not off the hook for your mission. I told you when Michael took Dean, and I'm telling you again now: Demons coped somehow before all the angels fell, didn't they? We'll cope again now that they've got their wings back... Now GO KILL DEAN WINCHESTER!"

"Fine," John grumbled. He got up and left the office that had once been Crowley's, but secretly he had no intention of going after his oldest son. Not right away, anyway.

 _I can do this_ , he assured himself. _I found a way around holy water. I can find a way around angel power too. I just need a plan._

Suddenly, it was as if a light bulb went off in his brain, and he ran back in. Abaddon opened her mouth, prepared to scream at him in outrage, but before she could John cried out "Didn't Crowley have an angel blade?"

"What are you talking about?"

"An angel blade. Did Crowley have one on him when you found him?"

"No... I would have taken it if he had."

"Are you sure? Because he always carri--"

"Excuse me? Are you questioning your queen?"

John sighed, his best hope gone. "No, Your Highness."

"Good. Now get out."

"Yes, Your Highness."


	34. Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The archangels hold a meeting to decide whether or not to allow Lucifer back into Heaven.

"I'd like to say something."

It was decision time. They were sitting at the long meeting table in Heaven's board room, Naomi taking notes as Gabriel, Raphael, and the vessel-less Michael tried to come to a consensus. Michael had already changed his vote, insisting that he never had any intention of letting Lucifer back in. Gabriel knew that Lucifer would see that as a betrayal, but Michael was not the only one who was changing his vote.

Gabriel stood up and said boldly, "I think we should let him back in." Michael and Raphael opened their mouths to protest, but Gabriel cut them off. "No, wait! Hear me out!" Naomi scribbled frantically.

"Dad cast Lucifer out because Lucifer refused to honor Dad's creations," Gabriel said. "Specifically, humans. This was an insult to our father, yes... but it was also a long time ago. This was back when the human race was just starting out, and it needed to be validated, because it hadn't proved itself yet. All Lucifer did was acknowledge the fact that the apes could have failed. But you know what? They didn't. They thrived. And they're going to continue to thrive, with or without our blessing. You know why? Because they don't need our blessing anymore. They're self-sufficient enough to bless themselves! Pardon me if that's blasphemous, but a large percentage of them don't even believe in us anymore! It just doesn't matter like it used to matter. Times have changed, my friends."

Gabriel took a deep breath before continuing, remembering what Garth had said to him by the lake. "More importantly, Lucifer is our brother. These last few years have been hard on all of us-- death, civil war, the apocalypse... Did we not learn anything from all of that? When we don't unite as a family, chaos ensues! Look what happened with Metatron! He was an outcast too. We all left him alone with his books and never paid any attention to him, and then he stabbed us all in the back. Maybe if we had included him more, that wouldn't have happened. Who's to say it's not the same with Lucifer? Don't you two remember what it was like before he fell? Remember when he was The Morning Star? I'm not saying it was wrong for Dad to cast him out, but I do think that he's served his time. Even if you don't believe that his punishment should be over yet, doesn't him helping us with Metatron change things? Let's look to the humans, since they're so damn important. Human prisoners get released early sometimes as a reward for good behavior. What better behavior can we ask for than saving Heaven and returning our graces to us?"

Gabriel took another breath, and then concluded: "I know you're worried. I know, in your minds, to reverse this decision would be disrespectful to Dad's word, but... Dad's not in charge any more. We are. He wouldn't have left if he didn't believe we were capable, and he would intervene now if we were doing the wrong thing. So please, I beg you-- and this is coming from someone he killed-- let's say yes." Gabriel sat back down and awaited the final verdict.

"You're full of shit, Gabriel," Michael sneered. "You've always been full of shit. I don't know what he promised you and I don't care. My vote is still no."

Gabriel bit his lip. It was down to Raphael. Naomi froze, pen hovering above the page, waiting.

"You _are_ full of shit, Gabriel," Raphael said. Michael smirked in satisfaction. "And it is because of this that I often forget how wise you truly are." Michael's smirk slid away instantly.

"You spent centuries upon centuries hiding out and playing pranks when we could have really benefited from your testimonies up here," Raphael continued. "I wholeheartedly agree with everything you've just said. Dad is gone. It's our turn to start making decisions. I vote yes."

Michael let out a roar of fury as Gabriel and Naomi cheered.

"I'll go tell him the good news," Gabriel volunteered. "But after that, sorry, but I'm headed back to Earth... Please give me a call whenever you need me, and I'll come, but right now I've got a boyfriend waiting for me... and I have a lot to thank him for."


	35. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to take care of Demon John once and for all.

Sam and Dean were not about to risk any more surprises. They were going to end this their way, on their terms.

Sam hid in the shadows while Dean and Castiel performed the summoning ritual. As far as they were aware, his demon father did not know that he was alive again, and for now he wanted to keep it that way. He gripped the syringe in his hand tight as John materialized in their devil's trap.

"Hiya, Dad," Dean grinned. "I didn't get a chance to properly introduce you before... This is my boyfriend, Castiel." Even with the dirt bike helmet on, Sam could tell just by his body language that John was furious.

"So here's what's gonna go down," Dean continued. "We were gonna gank your ass just like we would any other monster. Because that's what you are, Dad. You're a monster... But then we got a better idea. Sammy?"

Sam stepped out of the shadows, disappointed that, thanks to the helmet, he was not able to savor the look on his father's face. Still, the gasp he made was pretty satisfying.

"Me and Cas here are gonna chain you up now," Dean said. "If you try to resist--" He pulled out Ruby's knife. "--Then I'll kill you instead. But if you cooperate, Sammy's gonna cure you."

"You're... You're not serious?" John stammered.

"Oh, we're deathly serious," Sam promised.

"Are you forgetting that if you kill me, you kill Adam too? And if you 'cure' me, I'll be trapped in his body forever?"

"Killing Adam won't be a problem," Sam said. "We have angel friends who can bring him back. As for you taking over his body for the rest of your lives, well... I'm sure he'd prefer that to Lucifer's cage for all eternity."

"So, then," Dean said once it was established that John was at a loss for words. "We gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?"

John sank to his knees. Dean and Castiel approached him cautiously, certain that it was a trick, but John did not resist as they bound his limbs. Once he was sufficiently restrained, Sam removed the helmet and stabbed the first injection of his blood into John's neck.

This one wasn't going to be another Crowley. Sam was going to see this one through.


	36. Lucifer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel tells Lucifer the good news, unaware that Lucifer secretly had a plan B.

Lucifer cried when Gabriel told him. He didn't want to; he had been planning on keeping it cool, but all of that completely went out the window as it sank in: He was being allowed back into Heaven. It was really happening.

Of course, Lucifer knew that it wouldn't have been the end of the world if they had said no. He had a backup plan in case he ever got thrown into The Cage again, but that was all from a purely practical perspective. His backup plan didn't give him the feelings of love and acceptance that this scenario did. This was the outcome he had truly been hoping for; the backup plan was a last resort.

Still, as Gabriel and Naomi lifted him onto their shoulders, Lucifer was glad that Gabriel was singing "FOR HE'S A JOLLY GOOD FELLOW..." at the top of his lungs so that nobody could hear Crowley's keys jingling in his pocket.


	37. Metatron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metatron gets some special treatment in the afterlife.

When Metatron awoke, he was in some sort of forest. That was strange. Where was he? Was this where angels were sent when they died?

"This is Purgatory," a mysterious voice said, answering his unspoken question.

Metatron looked up. Standing before him was a slender, somewhat elderly man, with pitch black hair that had been elegantly slicked back. He was looking down at the angel with a completely unimpressed look on his face, casually sipping what appeared to be an In 'N Out milkshake.

"I realize this isn't standard procedure," the mysterious stranger said. "Normally one of my reapers would escort you to the afterlife, and you would be headed for Eden rather than Purgatory, given your species." He paused to take another drink of milkshake. "However, you've caused a lot of trouble, Metatron. An _awful_ lot of trouble. I thought your brothers were bad, starting the apocalypse, but you? More irritating than I ever could have imagined... All those fallen angels..." He took another sip. "I had to take your spirit myself. And I had to take you somewhere more, ah... suitable for you."

"Is... is this a punishment?!" Metatron asked incredulously. "You're leaving me here alone with all these monsters?! Who are you, anyway?"

"I am Death," the stranger said. "And of course I'm not leaving you here alone... I've asked a close friend of Dean Winchester's to look after you."

Metatron's eyes widened with fear as a large, bearded man with clear blue eyes emerged from between the trees. A wicked grin slowly began to spread across his face and as it did so, it revealed that the man had fangs.

"You know," the vampire said, speaking with a Southern drawl. "I've heard a lot of things about demon blood, but never anything about angel blood... I'm looking forward to experiencing it firsthand."

Metatron whimpered. It was going to be a long eternity.


	38. Abaddon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

Abaddon watched from a safe distance, where none of them could see her. She had not yet located the bunker that was supposedly their home, but she knew she was close, as they were all relaxing by the shore of the nearby lake.

Kevin was teaching Castiel how to skip rocks while Sam and Dean were having what looked like a very intimate, heart-to-heart conversation with their father. Abaddon couldn't hear most of it, but from what little she did catch, it was obvious that Crowley had not lied about the Winchesters knowing how to cure demons. No demon would be as distraught about being a dreadful father as John was right now.

Lucifer arrived a few minutes later, eager to show off his newly regrown wings to Sam. Dean used this as an opportunity to go spend time with Castiel, who still seemed upset about being stuck in human form. This left Kevin to awkwardly reassure John that Sam and Dean forgave him for everything-- even what he did before becoming a demon.

Abaddon was determined not to repeat Crowley's messes. She had underestimated these people, but she would never make that mistake again. She may have lost John Winchester, but she was in charge of Hell now; she had plenty more resources at her disposal.

The Queen returned to her throne, ready to start formulating her next move.


End file.
